Asleep in a Blizzard
by RinnySega
Summary: COMPLETED. Benson's depression is slowly getting worse as the summer draws to a close. Will he have a saving grace or be in too deep by the time winter comes around? Warning: Language and Abuse.
1. Heat

It was another one of those days. One of blistering heat and unforgiving humidity despite the calendar's promise that fall was supposed to be on its way. The thick smell of fumes and exhaust hung heavy in the air without so much as a breeze to help guide it off, and in hopes of making it stop, Benson parked his golf cart in the shade of a tree and killed the engine. It barely helped, but at least he could breathe again.

"Hey boss, I got them kids to stop swimming in the fountain." Skips voice faded in and out on Benson's walkie-talkie, but the gumball machine made no effort to fix it. He just wanted to recline for a while, a long while, and hope the day would hurry up and finish. The sooner night came, the sooner another day would begin, and maybe then it would be cooler. The heat was too much.

"You want I should keep a look out in case they come back?"

"Sure, that's fine," Benson responded, not really caring. He laid his back down against the seat and stared up at the roof of the cart, letting his slim, metal legs dangle over the side and catch the beams of sun coming in through the leaves. He kept the device close to his body, finger at the ready on call, but Skips never came back on the line. In fact, no one did, but he was content with that.

There wasn't a whole lot for the crew to work on that day. He sent a few to man the snack bar, send a few to pick up any trash, but there were hardly any people about that day for it to matter. It was too hot.

Benson closed his eyes and tried concentrating on sounds; it was something his anger management pamphlet said would calm his nerves. He heard the distant rushing of the fountain, some leaves shifting around once in a while, and the distant laughing of kids weaved in with Skips' shouting. Soon they all blurred together and Benson's mind became blank.

An hour passed.

He still felt blank.

Then another passed.

Still nothing.

Finally, when the third hour rolled by, and it was going on five, Benson had no other choice than to force himself up, put his foot on the pedal, and head back toward the house—back to his below-average life with the last few people he felt like seeing. The others would be there waiting for him—Skips, Pops, Mordecai and Rigby, Muscle Man and High Five Ghost—all standing around while he marked off the chores done for the day. Then, as always, while they all went off to do their own things after clock out, Benson would head back home for another night of leftovers and muted primetime television—below satisfied.

As the wheels crunched along the gravel, he twisted his head around, trying to wake himself up, if only for just another fifteen minutes. Once he got this last chore done, he could go home and maybe crawl into bed early after a soak in the tub. He didn't think anything would shake the funk he had weighing down his shoulders, so it was just better to go to sleep and get it over with.

Soon the house came into view, and so did a smile on his glass face.

"Hey, good work today, everyone." He pulled into the garage and joined the rest of his employees outside with his clipboard. "I know it's been a rough summer for all of us, but you guys actually came through today with the little I've asked of you. We got a lot of stuff done up until now, so the park's in pretty good condition for the fall season."

"Yo Benson, can we wrap this up soon?" Rigby moaned from the stoop. "My sweat's beginning to sweat, and I think I'm sticking to the stairs."

"In a minute, Rigby, I just have some last minute things to go over." He flipped a page of the clipboard and ran a finger down the list. "It says on my schedule we have one week before we're all granted our fun group activity for the end of September. Now we've been to karaoke and bowling in the past, but I think we should all be up for trying new things, right? Does anyone have any ideas?"

"Ooh, ooh, skydiving!" Rigby butted in.

"Skydiving?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He nodded feverishly. "We saw a flyer today about a thousand dollar cash prize for the most extreme parachuting tricks, and the contest is next week!"

"Yeah, and the best part is that you still get it even if you die!" Mordecai said.

"Rollin' on high in the afterlife, baby!"

"Hmmf!" They fist-bumped.

"Yeah, I'll keep it on the backburner," Benson said without much enthusiasm. "Does anyone else have any ideas?" Pops raised his hand. "Yes, Pops?"

"Why don't we all go to the amusement park," he suggested. "I hear they're having group discounts to celebrate the end of the season. We could save up to five whole lollipops, oooooh hmm hmm hmm."

"What? That's lame," Rigby said. "Who wants to stand around for an hour for a three minute ride when you can ride the ride by jumping out of an aero-plane!"

Mordecai lifted his wing. "Wait, dude, hold up. I just got an idea. What if we skydived into the amusement park and totally made it to where we land on the rides as they're going."

"What, we'd totally win first place if that happened!"

"Sick, right?"

"Totally! Can we do both Benson?"

"No, we're only doing one."

"What about ice-skating?" Skips suggested. "There's a place a town over that has a rink open all year round."

"You know who else has a rink open all year round?" Muscle Man snickered to HFG. "My mom!" They high-fived.

"Ugh. Well, at least that one sounds like a good way to end a summer," Benson said. "We'll put that on the list with the amusement park, so why don't you guys take the night to think about it and give me your choice in the morning. I can go ahead and sign us up while you guys are making the rounds."

"What? What about skydiving?" Rigby whined.

"No skydiving. A contest is out of the question; this is supposed to be a group activity for all of us to do as a team. And besides, I don't think Pops is in the right condition to be jumping out of airplanes."

Pops giggled toward a butterfly that landed on his kneecaps.

"Well if it's a group activity that means any one of us could win and we could all split the money!"

"I said no, Rigby! We're either going to the amusement park or the ice rink, and if you bring it up to me again, you're fired!"

Ignoring the raccoon's protesting, Benson headed back into the garage to put away the clipboard and close up while the others started heading out their separate ways. Pops stayed behind and waved the butterfly off as Benson pulled down the door and snapped on the lock.

"Well, well, I see the summer heat's been getting to you hasn't it, Benson?" he said.

"Ugh, too much."

"Well don't worry, it will be fall soon enough and before you know it, it will be winter. Ooh, and then you'll be all huffy because it will be too cold, hmm hmm hmm."

"Is there something you need, Pops? I'm really tired and have a bit of a headache; I'd like to get home now."

"I just think you've been working yourself too hard, and you just need to take it easy," he tried assuring. "You're still young you know, no need to feel so Debbie Downer all the time."

"I'm not young, Pops, I'm thirty-five."

"Oh, age is only a number, but youth is in how you feel." He held himself, a giddy expression coming back to his face. "Every day is a new adventure full of something to smile about and things to write songs of in the merry accompaniment of your closest acquaintances. Hmm hmm hmm."

"No, I have an expiration date, and every day that passes is just another one counting closer and closer to when that date comes." He paused and sighed. "Just forget it. I'll see you tomorrow." He started off toward town.

"Oh well, do get to feeling better soon, Benson!" he called after him. "Tomorrow's a new day!"

Yeah, and closer it comes, he thought.


	2. Do Me A Solid

Benson settled into his armchair that night much to his discomfort. His body ached, and no position he sat in could ease his stress. He felt he could do nothing about it except lie there and let the pain dull his nerves, which he did without much restraint. It began to rain again, the clock chimed nine, and yet somehow it felt so much later then that.

His walk home was uneventful. A visit to the Sammache Shoppe at the corner had become so routine for him that the workers there not only knew his name but his exact order by heart, down to every minute detail. Only about a week ago did they start having it ready for him by the time he came in the door, and while Benson felt glad he was remembered, he also felt guilty at just how low his life had sunken into this rut—so repetitive and so unsatisfying.

By the time he returned home and had his dinner, he could already feel himself start to unravel, and not even his breathing exercises or mild hobbies could calm him down at that point. His thoughts were idling, and that always meant a downward spiral into the dark recesses of his mind, which was a place he hated going to but always seemed to find himself—one way or another.

The hours continued to tick on, and the T.V. remained on muted reruns of old crime dramas. Benson wasn't there.

* * *

><p><em>SELF WORTH.<em>

The birds outside were chirping with the coming dawn, and while they sang, Benson felt like cracking a smile at the laughable words on his motivational calendar. Today was a day of self-discovery it said, and just below the date, in a thin and cursive font, was a quote: _you have worth—believe in yourself._

The birds stopped singing.

Benson only scoffed and pushed it from his mind, concentrating instead on brewing his morning coffee.

The sun had barely peaked over the landscape by the time he arrived at the park. It still felt muggy but relatively nice compared to the heat wave soon to come by the afternoon. He helped himself to some of the coffee in the kitchen, feeling another mug was in order to help get him through the day. He figured he needed all the help he could get.

"Oh, Benson, good morning," Pops chimed, joining him at the table with his own glass of orange juice.

"Hey, Pops. Do you have your pick for the group activity yet?" He took a sip from his cup.

"Oh, I'm fine with either holiday really. I'll go along with whatever the others want to do; I just can't decide, hmm hmm hmm."

"Fair enough. Have you seen the others? I was hoping I could go ahead and make the arrangements before getting started on my own work."

"Let's see," he put his finger to his lip and stared at the ceiling. "Muscle Man and High Five Ghost should be arriving shortly, and Rigby's been having a bit of a problem with the shower this morning. Oh, but Mordecai is outside with Skips; he made blueberry muffins today, hmm hmm hmm."

"Alright then; I can go ahead and get their say-in. Thanks, Pops." He stood and headed for the door with the coffee mug still in hand.

"Oh, you're quite welcome, my good man," he called after him. "And do try one, Benson; they're absolutely exquisite!"

And once he joined the others outside, he did. There weren't many of them left on the plate as Skips only made a few for his co-workers, but they were, as Pops had put it, absolutely exquisite. They were soft and warm, with just a pinch of something extra Benson couldn't put his finger on.

"I like to add some coffee creamer to the mix and sprinkle in some extra sugar before I put 'em in the oven," Skips answered. "Eh, it's a new hobby, but I think I'm picking up some interesting tricks."

"Mmm, you've definitely got a talent, there, Skips. If you cooked breakfast like this every morning, I'd just have to come to work early."

"Thanks, but, again, it's just a hobby. Is Pops around? I still have one for him."

Benson nodded to the house and was about to follow him inside before Mordecai, done with his own muffin, grabbed his arm to keep him back.

"Yo, Bens, before you go, can I ask a favor?"

"What is it?"

He watched as Mordecai fumbled with the muffin wrapper. "So, I know you said we couldn't do the sky-diving thing as a group, and I'm so totally cool with that, but is it possible we could do the amusement park instead of whatever that other thing was?"

"It's ice-skating, and the others haven't put their votes in yet, so—"

"I know, I know, that's why this is a favor. Can you tweak the votes to make it the amusement park even if it's that other thing?"

"It's ice-skating and why?"

"Because I found out someone's going to be there that weekend, and I really really need to be there too."

"Oh yeah? Who?"

"Uh, you don't know her."

"Her?" It clicked. "Oh, it's that robin from the coffee shop isn't it?"

"Oh, so you do know her...Cool, in that case can we go?"

"It depends on the votes." He turned to head back inside, but Mordecai blocked his path.

"Come on, Benson, she's going out there on a date with this total narb from England."

"So why in Pop's name would you want to go then?"

"Because Eileen's been saying they're totally gonna break up soon, and I want to be there and pick her up on the rebound in case it happens. And it's an amusement park, so that boosts me up some cool points on the chick radar board."

"Mordecai, I'm not going against the majority of the group just so you can have a chance with some girl you see almost every day.

"But I don't see her at an amusement park every day." He got on his knees in front of him, the wrapper crushed between his wings. "Please, Benson, you got to do me a solid on this one, dude."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, not a solid."

"Do me the solid, Benson," he said with a serious tone. "Do me a hard, hard solid."

"_No_! I'm not your little friend; I don't do solids!"

"Hey!" Benson and Mordecai looked up at the kitchen window where Skips was hanging out with Pops looking over his shoulder. "Did Mordecai just ask you for a solid?"

"Wha—yes, but—"

"You should always respect the power of the solid, boss." He too was gravely serious.

"But—"

"Yeah, Benson," Mordecai stood up again and looked down at him in a condescending manor. "You got to respect the power of the solid. Skips said so, and stuff. And besides, if you do me the solid, I do you a solid. That's how solids work."

"Ugh. Fine, we'll go to the amusement park."

"Ha, ha, yes!" Mordecai fist pumped and ran back into the house with Benson trailing behind.

"And you better not go back on this solids thing, Mordecai, or I'll have you scraping gum off the benches—with a toothbrush—for the next six months!"

But the blue jay wasn't listening.


	3. Almost There

Benson immediately regretted his decision by the time the week was up. He never should have agreed on that deal with Mordecai.

It was true the blue jay had gotten more of his work done that week, probably somewhat grateful of this sudden opportunity with the robin, but on the night of their amusement park venture, Benson was having second thoughts.

Already the group was splitting up. Mordecai and Rigby went one way, spotting Margaret and her boyfriend by the game booths, and Muscle Man and HFG went another way, Skips and Pops going too, leaving Benson abandoned just inside the entrance.

Some group activity.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his orange jacket and decided to make his rounds in hopes of seeing something that would spark his interest. He was thankful that his wishes were answered about the weather, as the coming autumn made the evenings much more enjoyable for him. The cool breeze coming in complimented the candy apples and caramel treats displayed around the snack stands, and when their sweet scents wafted around his nose, it brought him back to a better time—back when the holidays made him happy with friends and family, now all long gone.

For old times sake however, and really with nothing else planned for the night, he ordered a caramel apple and took a seat at a table, picking at his treat with his plastic utensils while scanning the crowds. A little ways off he could see Mordecai and Rigby, both playing with water guns, shooting each other instead of the targets, while Margaret laughed and joined in. The man she was with had his arms crossed by another booth, a sour expression fixated on his face. Benson hummed and bit down on another piece of his apple. Maybe Mordecai did have a shot after all.

"Hi."

Her voice was so faint, Benson almost didn't hear it, but a slight turn of his head revealed there was another person standing right beside him. For a split second, the image was almost like looking into a mirror: the giant glass orb, a light pink torso, cream-colored base, long metal legs and arms, gray mittens and boots, almost like him but slightly different. Around this girl's neck was a gray and white striped scarf with a matching beret sitting lopsided on the dome of her head, but whereas Benson's head contained gumballs, hers contained a tiny gingerbread house and pine tree submerged in a clear liquid with mounds of fluff lining the bottom.

A sweet, little snow globe.

"Hi," he replied.

The lights strung up around the snacking area reflected small freckles beside her nose, casting off translucent beams of color when she shifted and looked down at his plate. She smiled.

"Never seen anybody eat an apple with a fork and knife before," she said.

"Oh...it's a thing, I guess."

She nodded and pointed to the seat beside him. "Is this seat taken?"

"No."

"Do you mind?"

"Sure, go ahead." He made an effort to scoot over, but the girl simply pulled the chair away and carried it over to where a group of people sat at one of the larger tables. Benson did a double take when he noticed she was no longer there, and he eyed her as she sat herself down next to one of the larger men of the group who put a protective arm across her shoulders. The two leaned in together to split an apple fritter, and Benson turned back to his own plate, idly picking at the remnants of his food.

"Yeah, you can take that..."

* * *

><p>"Hey Benson, enjoying the park?"<p>

Mordecai was on his way back from the restroom when he noticed his boss loitering by the line at the roller coaster. Margaret and Rigby ran into Eileen earlier who "just happened to be in the neighborhood," so while they were talking, Mordecai used it as a chance to slip away. Now that he'd run into Benson, he figured an extra few moments away wouldn't hurt. After all, he did owe him.

"Eh, it's okay," was Benson's response. He was pretty indifferent to the whole thing.

A wave of screams and howls came crashing down from the peak of the coaster, and both men stared up in time to see the cars speeding down the incline with arms thrown in the air and mouths open wide with exclamations. The blue jay turned to his boss.

"You need someone to ride with?"

"Oh, I wasn't thinking of actually riding it; I was just standing around."

"Oh come on, it'll be fun. I still owe you a solid remember? I'll ride it with you."

"I was thinking more along the lines of having your solid be doing better at your job."

"Hey, I already gave you that freebie this past week. I'm generous with my paybacks; don't take it for granted."

"Mhm." Benson moved forward in the line. "So, how did things go with Margaret?"

"Eh, still a bit flakey. Tom's been a total jerk the whole night, but she still won't break it off with him. I really don't get what she sees in guys like that."

"It's probably just a phase. I remember when I was your age, the girls I hung out with were a lot like that too. She'll come around soon enough and go for the better choice."

"Well I hope it's soon. I don't want to be all old and living alone in an apartment the rest of my life just because she's going through a phase."

Benson cleared his throat.

"Oh, sorry, dude, no offense."

"It's fine. But hey, it could be worse, right? You could be stuck rooming with Rigby the rest of your life. Talk about aging quickly."

"Mmm, I like to think that's what would happen if I ever hit rock bottom. But still, I'd take him over being alone any day. And if Rigby and I did room together in old age, we wouldn't be old, we'd be vintage."

"Vintage, huh?"

"Vintage," he said with a smooth infliction. "It's a heap of a lot cooler than just being old, you know."

Benson just nodded, not knowing what else to say. The line moved forward, and so did they.

"So," Mordecai said after a while, "did you ever have a girl, Benson?"

He took a moment before shrugging. "I had a few I liked, but nothing serious I guess."

"Didn't work out?"

He shook his head.

"That sucks, man."

"Yeah." The line moved forward again. "I keep thinking the ones I liked were just stuck in that phase, you know? Going for the jerks instead of, well, guys like you and me you know? It helps me sleep at night to think like that anyhow."

Mordecai nodded, not really agreeing with the idea Benson was ever like him, but then again, Benson hardly ever talked about his past, so he didn't quite know for sure. Still, it was a strange thought.

A few moments later, the line stopped and the potential riders had to disperse due to technical difficulties and a malfunction on the chain system. The two of them were third in line when it happened, almost there but couldn't quite make it.


	4. Lunch PickUp

Mordecai did his best to avoid Benson the rest of the week. Upon their return to work the following Monday, their boss had become more irrational and quick to anger at the tiniest, most insignificant things. One piece of trash was forgotten on the sidewalk, and he'd yell several obscenities at the top of his lungs. One spot wasn't clean on a dish, and he'd break it into a million pieces. Benson had been bad before about controlling his temper, but in the days that followed their trip, his ability to monitor his wrath was starting to slip.

It was a late Wednesday afternoon when Mordecai strolled into the center of the park.

"Hey dude," he said upon finding Rigby. The raccoon was waist deep in the water fountain, goggles situated on his head with a snorkel attached at the snout, barely giving so much as a nod of acknowledgement as he approached him. "How's the work?" he asked.

"Lame. Benson's really off his rocker on this one. I missed three leaves—three leaves, Mordecai—and he has me watching the fountain all day in case another one falls. Not only that but he cut my lunch break to just five minutes!" He waded over to the side and sat on the edge where his friend stood beside him. "This is the most work I've ever done in my entire life, and I don't even get to ration it out with house of eating and game play. I'm sick of it. Labor force brutality!"

"I hear ya. I was thinking about having a talk with him about it, but I don't want to piss him off and end up in your shoes."

"Augh, this is so unfair! First the skydiving and now the leaves. I don't care what Benson's problem is, but he needs to get over it and give us all a break!" He huffed, trying to calm himself down, but nothing he tried was working. He punched a leaf in midair before it hit the water.

Mordecai thought a moment. "You know what, dude? I think I know his problem."

"You do? What is it?"

"I think Benson's lonely."

"Well duh, everybody knows that. Benson's always lonely; that's why he's usually pissed off on a regular basis in the first place. Why's he waiting until now to make the rest of us just as miserable as he is?"

"I don't know. He seemed pretty chill at the park. Depressed, but still chill." He paused. "Maybe we should find him a girlfriend."

"A girlfriend?"

"Yeah, dude. That could solve our problems."

Rigby shook his head. "Nope. He had one, remember?"

"He did?"

"Yeah, Veronica."

"Oh yeah...he did. But she was a jerk; they hardly acted...you know, couple-y. He needs a nice girl, you know? Nice girl equals nice Benson, and that will make our lives easier. Come on, after this we need to go find him one."

"You can't even get one yourself." He flicked another leaf off the foundtain. "Isn't there a phrase on doing something for someone else that you can't do on your own? And how it never works."

"Well, we have one of two options, here." He tossed his wings up in the air. "Do what we can to make Benson happy, or suffer his wrath with our labor. I for one like the first; a happy Benson equals a happy us. It's just one girl. It can't be that hard."

Rigby snorted. "Yeah, you have fun with that." He pulled down the goggles and went back into the fountain.

"Okay, I will."

The blue jay walked off just before Rigby came back to the surface. "And I'm getting hungry! Bring me a French dip while you're girlfriend hunting!"

* * *

><p>"And that's why I need your help," Mordecai finished.<p>

"Oh man, poor guy," Eileen said. "It must be so sad to be so alone like that."

"Yeah, but I don't think we know anybody single who's looking right now," Margaret said. "Sorry, Mordecai."

The blue jay rubbed his head as he leaned against the counter of the coffee shop, his cappuccino finished and Rigby's lunch ready to go in the bag. He stared back up at the two waitresses, resting his cheek on his fist.

"Come on, there has to be somebody—anybody—for him to go out with."

"You're such a nice friend, Mordecai." Eileen picked up his empty plate to set in the sink. "Even if you can't, it's still the thought that counts."

"I don't know. It just really sucked seeing him all depressed and stuff, especially after telling me he used to be like me when he was my age. It was like, looking into a weird vision of myself in the future. As a gumball machine. Not cool, man."

"Aw, you won't be alone, Mordecai," Margaret comforted. "You'll find the right girl."

He wanted to stab those words with a sharpened pencil.

"But if you guys want, I heard from a friend of mine who works at the roller rink that they're having a ladies night this Saturday. We can all go together and see if we can make something happen."

"The roller rink has a ladies night?" Mordecai asked.

"Oh yeah, I heard about that," Eileen interjected. "Ladies skate for free if they bring their own skates."

"That's a weird marketing ploy."

Margaret shrugged. "They're trying."

"Hmm. It could work though. How much is the cover fee for guys?"

"My friend's pretty chill. She'll probably let you guys in for free if you're with us."

"Is she cute?"

"Evelyn? Yeah, but she's an artsy type at the community college downtown. I don't think she'd be a good match for your boss. Not to mention, I think she's taken."

"Oh, bummer."

Mordecai watched as Margaret took his empty cup to the back while he grabbed Rigby's take out and hopped off the stool.

"Well, either way there's bound to be some girls out there for Benson. And hey, if worse comes to worse, we're all going together right?" He smiled. "We'll have fun, just like last week at the amusement park, right, Margaret?"

"Huh? Yeah, sure," she called from the back. He sighed.

"Make sure Rigby goes, okay, Mordecai?" Eileen smiled.

He nodded. "Sure thing, Eileen." He gave her a fist pump and headed out back to work.

* * *

><p>It was already getting on noon, and already he felt like he'd been there a month.<p>

Benson slumped over his desk in the manager's office, finishing marking up the record book with the week's achievements, glancing at the clock every now and again and getting irritated that time seemed to go by slower. He just wanted to go home.

There was a knock.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Hey, Benson," Mordecai said coming into the room.

"What, Mordecai? I'm busy."

"I know, I know. I was just stopping by on my lunch break to see how things were going."

Benson glared at him. "What did Rigby break?"

"What? Nothing; he didn't break anything."

"Okay, what did Pops break?"

"He didn't break anything either."

"Good, now get back to work." He went back to marking in his records, but the blue jay didn't budge. He felt himself heat up. "What?"

"I was just wondering what you were doing this weekend."

"Living in a coma until the work week on Monday. Now get out."

"Yeah, that sounds cool and all, but you know what would be better?"

"What?"

"Hanging out with some friends around town. You know, Rigby, Margaret, Eileen, some of her friends. _Lady friends_," he tried to emphasize. Benson's expression remained unamused. Mordecai straightened up. "We have plans to go to the roller rink this weekend."

"I don't know how to skate."

"But you wanted to go ice-skating last week."

"So?"

"So, it's not that much different. And they have an arcade and a snack bar if you don't want to skate."

"Not my thing. Get out."

"But we could get in for free."

"I don't care. _Get out_." He felt himself turn red. Mordecai noticed.

"Okay, okay...just a thought...I'll give you the night to think about it, so if you want to go, just let me know okay?"

He grunted.

"Awesome. I'll check back in on Friday."

He took the opportunity to slip out.

* * *

><p>"So what you're telling me is that not only did you irritate Benson and not get more chores like me, but you went to him <em>before<em> giving me my lunch?" Rigby shouted. "You should be beaten with an oar."

"Your food's still warm, you big baby," Mordecai said. "And if I were you, I'd hurry up and eat it since your lunch break's only five minutes today."

Rigby growled as he started taking large bite after large bite. "So," he asked mouth full with a sly smirk. "Margaret break up with Tom yet?"

"Shut up."


	5. Keeping Balance

It was Friday afternoon, and Benson was on his way home to think long and hard about what he agreed to do on Saturday.

"The roller coaster broke down, so I still owe you a solid," Mordecai said to him. "Please trust me Benson. I think it might do you some good to get out once in a while, especially after that talk we had at the park."

"I don't know," was all he could come up with as he slumped over the steering wheel of the golf cart.

"I think you do. It's not like you're busy, right?"

"No."

"Cool, so, come on. Come out with us tomorrow. I promise you won't regret it."

He sighed. "Okay, fine, but I'll drive myself in case I want to leave early."

"That's fine." Mordecai stepped out of the cart as Benson drove off to finish his work. He hoped he wouldn't regret this.

Once inside the apartment, Benson tossed his keys on the counter and fell face first onto his bed. He didn't know how to skate, and he doubted picking up a girl in a place like that would be very effective. It wasn't like a bar where people go looking; it's a roller rink—a family place. But Mordecai said he'd take care of him, so he felt he had to at this point. Really, what else was he going to do?

* * *

><p>"Okay...okay...awesome. Thanks, sweetie. We'll see you tomorrow."<p>

Margaret hung up the phone and turned her attention back to the blue jay sitting at the table. "Okay, it's all set up. Evelyn got us in for free, and she's giving us discounts on food and drinks and stuff. She'll be our waitress too just in case there's a mix up."

"Awesome," Mordecai responded. He took another sip of his latte while Margaret went back to wiping down the counter. "I really hope this will be good for Benson."

"I'm sure it will be. There will be lots of people there. Whatever slump he's in will go away."

"Yeah, but I'm still a bit nervous about the skating part. I hope he doesn't get hurt or anything. Or worse, do an embarrassing split or something and ruin his chances with someone."

"Does he know how to skate?"

"He said he didn't."

"Oh, that's not an issue. Some of the employees get paid extra to teach someone to skate or help guide them along if they don't know how." She picked up the phone again. "Do you want me to ask if someone could help him out?"

Mordecai shook his head. "I don't think so. I think it would embarrass him." He watched as she put the phone back on the receiver. "I think we should just take him by and see what happens. If he wants lessons, that's cool, but if not, we'll—"

"Just see what happens?" she finished.

He smiled. "Yeah." He took another sip and watched her continue cleaning.

* * *

><p>Saturday morning came and went before Benson had time to notice. He spent most of the day cleaning, trying to preoccupy his mind with something other than what awaited him at the roller rink. On the one hand, he was nervous and wanted to cancel, but on the other, he was anxious to go and find somebody. He tore himself between polishing his head and wanting to bury himself in his sheets. He also wondered if he was good enough to drive. If nothing good came from that night, he knew the first place he'd go would be a bar. But what if it did go well? He didn't want this girl to think he didn't have a car and bummed rides from his employees. He groaned while wiping down his table and rubbed his nose. He felt he had too much on his mind.<p>

But by the time their meet up took place, the thirty-five year old gumball machine had his decision set in motion. In his orange jacket he wore to the amusement, he slipped into his car and drove to the roller rink, keeping his hands as steady as possible on the wheel. He arrived in one piece, greeted Mordecai, Rigby, Margaret, and Eileen at the door, and sat with them at the snack area while they all laced up their skates.

He was still pretty nervous.

"I'm really excited," Margaret chimed. "This is going to be so much fun, right guys?"

Mordecai nodded almost with Eileen but kept a close eye on Benson who was having a rough time balancing on the skates. He kept both hands on the railing beside the table with his eyes on his feet, a small bead of sweat running along his eye.

"You know," Mordecai said to him, treading lightly, "I hear the employees help you out if you're nervous about skating."

"I think I'll be fine," he said right away, even though he was beyond nervous for his physical health. "I just need to warm up, that's all. I'll be right back."

While Rigby skated off to the rink with Eileen following close behind, Mordecai sat with Margaret at the table and watched Benson slowly pull his way along the railing, trying his hardest not to lose his balance. It almost hurt him to see much younger kids doing tricks and speeding past him with more experience, but there wasn't anything he could do about that. Benson just had to pick it up as he went along.

"Hey Margaret," came a female's voice behind him. "Long time no see, hon."

Mordecai looked up to see a light pink snow globe standing beside their table with a French beret and matching scarf around her neck. She stood on the tips of her gray boots and gave Margaret a sweet embrace with a smile that hid the gingerbread house inside her head.

"It's so nice to see you again, Evelyn," Margaret said to her. "It's been forever. I want you to meet my friend, Mordecai." She turned to the blue jay. "Mordecai, this is Evelyn. We went to high school together before we moved here."

"Nice to meet you," he said, shaking her mitten-covered hand. "Margaret tells me you're an art student?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it's crazy work. I've got a performance piece coming up in a few months, so I've been traveling around with some friends trying to get ideas."

"Oh, do you have any?" the robin asked.

"Yeah I know what I'm going to do for it, but I just need ideas on how to execute it. Anyway," she pulled a pen and pad from her apron, "Can I get you guys anything to drink?"

"I'll have a soda, and you can get Rigby water," Mordecai said.

"And I'll have two diets please," Margaret suggested—one for her, one for Eileen. "Do you know what Benson wants?"

Mordecai shook his head and looked out over the crowd on the rink. Benson hadn't gotten very far, and he'd already turned around, heading back to the table with his eyes still on his feet. He mentally sighed. "I don't know, but I think he's coming back right now."

"Okay," said the snow globe, "I can put these in and just come back for his later. Do you guys want any appetizers?"

"Cheese nachos sound good."

She wrote it down. "Cool beans. I'll be back in a second."

And she skated off to another table to take the orders of another family. A few moments later, Benson arrived and sat down in the seat, hugging the table for dear life.

"Those crazy kids almost knocked me down five times." He growled. "And I think two of them tried to do it on purpose."

"Hey, the waitress came by wanting drink orders," Mordecai said, trying to change the subject. "Do you know what you want?"

"Do they have whiskey?" After getting a saddened look from the blue jay, he sighed and rubbed his head. "Kidding. I'll just take a soda."

"You feeling okay?" Margaret asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, but one of those kids hit me with a glow stick. I think I might have a crack."

"I don't see anything," Mordecai said.

"I'll go check anyway. Where's a bathroom?"

Margaret pointed him in the direction of the men's room, and once again Benson got up to slowly pull his way over to the door. He wasn't gone two minutes before Evelyn came skating back, pen and paper in hand.

"Oh sorry, I thought I saw someone else with you," she said.

"No, he was here. He wants a soda," Mordecai told her.

"Okay, awesome. I'll have the drinks out with the nachos in just a minute."

And she skated off again, keeping her word a moment later when she dropped off the tray of drinks and chips. Benson returned again after she left, alerting his companions that all was well and his glass had not been cracked.


	6. Crosswalks

_A/N: Wow, thanks for the sudden adds on the story alerts, guys! It really cheers me up to see that you are enjoying it. If you have any comments/reviews I'd love to hear them! Also, a sweet thanks to pinkluver93 who has reviewed every chapter so far. You're a lovely, brilliant, cheesecake rabbit :)_

* * *

><p>Benson left earlier than the others, complaining about a headache but in reality was just sick of it all. The flashing lights, the high-pitched shouting, the mess on the floors, the children running around his feet, all of it. Down to every last minute-fucking-detail.<p>

He couldn't skate—repeated to Mordecai over a dozen times, _couldn't skate_. And he probably looked like an idiot trying to keep his balance the entire night. What kind of way was he supposed to meet new people when he was in a constant state of fear of slipping and falling? None, he figured, and he knew he was right. It was ridiculous, the whole idea ludicrous, and he felt like a moron for allowing himself to stay at that place longer than he should have. What was he thinking?

Around a quarter to twelve, he parked his car at the bar downtown, and he couldn't have been more happy.

* * *

><p>Mordecai shoved his wings into the pockets of his jacket while he walked Margaret and Eileen home. Rigby had a sudden sugar crash from the free pixie sticks handed out at the rink, and Skips had to stop by and drive him home. That was only a half hour before Benson left, complaining about having a headache from all the commotion. Somehow, Mordecai didn't buy it.<p>

"Do you think tonight went okay?" he asked the girls. He was in serious need of some kind of emotional support.

"I had fun," Eileen said, "but poor Rigby. I'm going to make him a fruits basket tonight in hopes he feels better. Not real fruit through, just wax fruit. I know he doesn't like the real stuff."

"I was thinking more about Benson," he responded. "But that's cute, Eileen. I'm sure he'll love it." He wouldn't.

"Well it's not like he left right away, right?" Margaret offered. "He could have left early, but he stayed for a long while."

"Yeah, but he was in the bathroom most of the night with that headache. I don't think he made an attempt to meet anybody either."

"Maybe we should try again somewhere else. Eileen and I can think of some ideas; we'll let you know what we come up with."

"Thanks, guys." He stopped in front of their building. "Well, here you go. Chez...You Guys."

"Thanks for walking us home, Mordecai," Eileen said ascending the stoop. "Don't tell Rigby about the basket. I want it to be a surprise."

He nodded and waited for Margaret to follow her inside, but she lingered out with him, even after Eileen had shut the door.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm okay," she said. "I'm just worried about you is all. I know the reason you're trying so hard is because you're afraid. You really don't have to be."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "No, I'm not afraid. What would I be afraid of? Benson's my boss, and he needs somebody. I'm just trying to be a good friend."

"I know, but I'm still worried about what you said the other day. How it's bothering you that you might become him."

Mordecai tried laughing off her statement. "Margaret, I'm not worried I'm becoming Benson. I mean, sure it was something that crossed my mind, but I haven't been dwelling on it or anything."

"Well, okay." She started up the stoop. "But if you want to talk to someone about it, or anything really, you know where to find me."

"Will do, Margaret." He smiled and waved her off while she joined Eileen inside. A few moments later, their lights went out.

As he started again down the street, he couldn't help but wonder to himself if Margaret ever knew where to find him.

* * *

><p>Benson downed another shot, holding his head while he felt the effects fade in with a dull pain. He smiled and pushed the glass toward the bartender.<p>

"One more of these, and I'll call it a night—I promise," he said.

The bartender he spoke to was just a mop leaning against the counter.

* * *

><p>The wind really started picking up by the time Mordecai got back to his side of town. He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and buried his wings deeper into the pockets. He could practically feel his teeth chattering against his beak.<p>

There was a green light on his side of the street, and like any normal pedestrian, the blue jay mashed the crosswalk button a dozen times in haste, hoping it would turn red so he could get home and get back in bed. It was already going on 12:45, and it was getting colder.

Suddenly, a yellow car with a thick, black stripe across the side pulled up beside him in the turn lane. The passenger side door opened, allowing a young woman to step out into the cold with a bag held protectively to her chest. She stumbled onto the street and had to adjust the hat on her head, the wind already trying to take it from her.

It was hard for Mordecai not to recognize this girl; she was their waitress at the roller rink after all.

"I'm serious, Evelyn," a man said from the driver's seat. "I'll have all your shit burned to ashes the next time you decide to not pay our part of the rent!"

Evelyn leaned down into the window and smiled. "Thanks for picking me up from work, Ken. I know it must have been some trouble for you to go out of your way for me."

"I mean it, Evelyn!" he shouted. "I'm going out of town with the guys this month, and if I come back and we're getting evicted, you're fucking dead to me, you hear me? _Dead!_"

"Tell the guys I said hello." She continued to smile.

The man shook his head and spit into the ashtray before rolling up the window and speeding off into the night. The snow globe waved him off and pulled a set of keys from her jacket, heading to an apartment building on the corner. When she glanced up, she and Mordecai made eye contact. She stopped.

"Oh hey," she said. "You're Margaret's friend, uh...Mordecai, aren't you?"

"Yeah..." he felt a bit awkward at the encounter he just witnessed. "And you're Evelyn right?"

"Yep." She took a note of her surroundings. "So, you waiting to cross the street?"

"Yeah, I'm heading home. Had to walk Margaret and Eileen back first."

"That's nice of you. Where's your raccoon friend and the other guy you were with?"

"Rigby went home early, and Benson kind of did too. Sorry you didn't meet him; he said he had a pretty bad headache."

"It's okay. I'm sure we'll bump into each other some other day." She put the key in the lock and turned back to him. "I was just about to make myself some tea if you want any. It's pretty cold out."

"No thanks, not a huge tea fan."

"Okay then," she nodded a little awkwardly before stepping inside. "Take it easy then."

"Yeah, you too." You'll need it, he thought.

She shut the door behind her and left the blue jay alone once again. The light finally changed, and he made a dart across the intersection, feeling his feathers were going to freeze off if he didn't get home soon.

* * *

><p>Benson forgot he had a car. He was already halfway home before he remembered driving to the bar after the roller rink, but it was so late, and he felt so disoriented, he decided to forget about it and come back for it later.<p>

He held the lamppost for balance as he pressed the button to cross the street. The wind was picking up, and his orange jacket felt too light to the sudden temperature drop. At least he had his blushed cheeks to help keep him warm, and the thought of his nice, warm bed made his insides melt. He couldn't wait to get there.

It seemed like a half hour passed as he lingered by the lamp, and the lights still hadn't changed to allow him to cross. Benson looked one way down the street, then down the other, and noticed there were no cars in sight. He scoffed.

I can do this, he thought. It's not that far. I don't need a fucking light telling me when to walk.

He took one determined step into the street, and that was all it took before a car horn sent him back against the post, his heart beating fast inside his body. A yellow car with a black stripe whizzed by, the driver shouting obscenities as it went, and Benson immediately sobered up to the situation. The light finally changed in his favor.

Now he really was starting to get a headache.


	7. Plan B

_A/N: Sorry it's a short chapter this week; I'm a senior in college, so I've been swamped the past few days in my final research and stuff. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

><p>"Benson! Oh, Benson!" Pops sang in the hallway. "Benson, my good man, where are you?"<p>

The gumball machine in question was curled up beneath his desk with quite the hangover, complete with an icepack and empty glass once containing a Bloody Mary. The lolliman outside opened his office door and peered inside.

"Benson, are you in here?"

His head felt like shattering. Why did Pops have to be so loud?

"Found you."

Benson glanced up to see Pops beside him at the desk, bent at the knee to be at his level. He smiled. "Oh my, are you playing hide and seek, Benson?"

"What is it Pops?" he groaned, holding his head. "Make it and quick."

"My father wishes to have me remind you he will be stopping by in one week for your performance review. Oh it will be so exciting to see you and Pa-pa again enjoying each other's company, mmmmm."

"Great." He pressed the ice pack harder against the glass. Just what he needed. "Is that all you needed to tell me? I'm busy."

"I do believe so. Oh, and Mordecai was looking for you also. He says he has a new plan that involves fun time outings with the ladies."

"Tell him I'm not interested. I'm busy this weekend."

"Oh, but Benson, he said it would be tomorrow night."

He glared at him.

* * *

><p>"So you're sure it's Tuesday?" Mordecai asked Margaret over the phone.<p>

"Yeah, I just saw the ad posted at the shop. It's an art gallery exhibition where the theme is "revolution of women." There's bound to be a lot of girls there."

"I don't know." He held his side and leaned against the wall. "Do you really think women attending something so...empowering like that would be looking for a guy?"

"It's possible. Wouldn't hurt to try."

He tossed the idea around in his head. "I guess...I mean, Benson's a pretty intelligent guy. I'm sure he'd end up getting into a conversation about a painting with someone or something."

"Yeah, that's the spirit."

"Not to mention he doesn't need to know how to skate." He remembered the disaster that was that previous weekend. "Okay, I'll let him know about it and see what he thinks. Thanks Margaret."

He hung up.

* * *

><p>"No," Benson said flatly.<p>

"Oh, but it sounds like so much fun," Pops insisted, taking a seat beside him.

"I'm not going to an art gallery."

"Oh, will you stop being so Negative Nancy, Benson?" Pops put his fists on his hips.

"I'm not being a—" he sighed. "Jeez, why do you guys keep insisting I go out when I tell you I don't want to?"

"Because you need to get out once in a while, Benson. It's like the television always says: If you don't go out and live, what is the point of living in the first place?"

He rotated the ice pack to the other side of his head. "I've been pondering that for years."

"Then for me, Benson? Will you go out for me? I will give Pa-pa a good word for you if you do."

Benson sighed and nodded. "Sure, fine, whatever. But this is the last time I'm doing anything like this. You can go ahead and tell that to Mordecai."

Pops agreed with a smile and went on his merry way, leaving Benson behind with a melted ice pack and a deep resentment for a certain blue bird.


	8. Lucky Number

Just as he promised, Benson accompanied Mordecai and Margaret the following evening to the art exhibition at the college. What he didn't promise, however, was that he wouldn't drink, and the longer the night ran, the more trips he made to the refreshment table. Free wine in plastic cups wasn't very sophisticated for an event like this, but at least it helped coax him through the night.

"Benson, this is my friend, Brenna," Margaret said. They stood around a collection of surrealist paintings when the robin approached with a woman dressed all in black, long red hair straight down to her waist.

"Hi," Benson shook her hand, but the woman made no attempt to greet him back.

"Brenna here painted some of these herself, you know," Margaret said, trying to ease them into conversation. "Like these here."

"Did you?" Benson said, swirling his wine around in his cup. "They look very good. I especially love how the curvature of the Earth in this piece warps toward the bottom of the picture."

"It's to symbolize the rape of Mother Earth," she said with a very monotonous voice. "She keeps her head high and mighty to the burdens of the world, but deep down toward her genitals she is crying for the abuse of her lands by her children." She motioned to a companion piece beside it. "That is why the sisters of the Earth ban together to fix her curvature, to show that we are one being against the destructive sons of her body."

Benson downed the rest of his ninth cup. "Oh, look at that, I'm going to go get another one of these. Be right back."

The gumball machine nudged his way through the crowd and loitered by the beverage table, waiting for the attendant to turn around. He cut him off at five, so he'd have to come back and steal when he wasn't looking. Mordecai excused himself as well and followed him.

"Okay, so maybe that one was a little standoffish," he said, "but she was pretty smart, though, right?"

"I'm not interested."

"Benson, come on, dude, we've been here for four hours, and—"

"Exactly, we've been here for four hours, and I'm sick of it." He turned to Mordecai. "Do you know how many of those girls you paraded around in front of me since we came through the door? Eighteen."

"But—"

"Eighteen, Mordecai!"

"Well nineteen could be your lucky number."

Benson shook his head. "I think I just want to go home."

Mordecai sighed. "Come on, Benson, just a little longer? I'm sure something will happen." Benson grabbed another plastic cup and downed that one as well, tossing it in the garbage before the attendant could see him. He stumbled a bit, and Mordecai took hold of his arm. "That, and you don't look good enough to drive," the blue jay noted.

"I'm fine," he responded rather sharply. "But if it makes you feel better, I'll just step outside for a smoke." He brushed his companion off his arm and fumbled in his jacket pocket for a cigarette and the lighter. "Just come get me when you're ready to go." He turned and left through the crowd.

Mordecai watched him disappear down the steps of the gallery, and with a down trod heart returned to Margaret.

"How'd it go?" she asked. "Where is he?"

"Outside smoking." He sighed. "I just give up, Margaret. I don't think there's any hope for him at this point."

"Come on, don't say that. There's always a special someone for everybody."

"Not for Benson."

That's when he noticed a new ring on Margaret's wing; that meant another new boyfriend. He slumped his shoulders while the robin patted his back, but went to go mingle when more of her friends arrived to the show.

And not for me either, he thought.

* * *

><p>It shouldn't take this long to get outside, Benson thought. Where the hell am I?<p>

The gumball machine placed a hand on the wall of a long hallway he somehow found himself in. He went down the same stairs he came in through, but he figured he must have got turned around and went down the wrong way. He stopped just outside a set of classrooms and made an attempt to turn around when he noticed a light on at the far end of the hallway. Curious, he followed t.

Ten doors down, there was indeed a light on in one of the small studio spaces of the building. The door stood slightly ajar, and when Benson approached, he could hear faint music coming from inside—something with violins, maybe. Or cellos.

He pushed it open ever so slightly, but ended up just stumbling inside anyway. Set up in the room was a canvas where someone sat working, and although it was turned away and he couldn't see the painting, he could still see her.

A snow globe.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, setting her brush aside, grabbing hold of her chest. "You gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry," he said a little louder than he meant to. "Didn't mean to. Saw a light."

"Oh, yeah, it's just me. I'm a student." She went back to her painting but kept an eye on the intruder as he stumbled over to the window. The glass was already lifted to allow a breeze to come in, and Benson sat himself on the sill and lit the waiting cigarette between his fingers. The snow globe hesitated, watching him still.

"Umm..."

He looked at her. "You mind?"

She shook her head. "No..." even though she was a tad uncomfortable. "But, there's other rooms and places...outside."

"It's okay, I'm fine here," he said.

"Oh...okay..." she turned up her string quartet music a little louder and continued painting, a nervous expression on her face.

After taking a few drags from his cigarette and listening to the traffic outside, Benson turned toward her, trying to put his finger on why this girl looked familiar. Coming to no conclusions, and noticing she was giving him odd looks for staring at her, he sparked up a conversation.

"So why aren't you at the exhibit?" he asked. "You're a painter."

She looked a little weary. "Well, I helped set up, but I didn't really have anything to showcase, so I wasn't really interested in going."

"No women's rights stuff for you?"

"I wouldn't say that," she said shyly. "But I just don't have that kind of stuff in my portfolio. That's why I'm here working. I decided, hey, if I'm going to help set up, might as well get some work done."

"Can't argue with that."

She looked at her canvas and dabbed some more paint on it. "This one's due in about a week, so I really want to finish it. It's my last one until my performance piece in December. Oh," she reached into a bag beside her chair and tossed a flier over to him. "Just in case you're interested, it's the first Saturday of the month, called _Asleep in a Blizzard_, and it'll be here. I like seasons and landscape pieces, so I'll be doing something to celebrate winter."

Benson took a simple glance at the paper, not really reading it, before folding it up and sticking it in his jacket. "I'll think about it." He looked at the gingerbread home in her head with the pine tree behind it. He smirked. "You'd know a lot about winter, wouldn't you?"

"It's like I said, I just like seasons and landscapes...see?" She motioned to her canvas.

Benson got up from his spot at the window at her invitation and stubbed out his cigarette on the sill. Trying his best to keep balance, he walked over to see what it was she was painting. In gentle strokes were a fountain, a path, some trees, and a house far off in the distance—half colored, half still sketched. Now something else was familiar to him.

"I know this place," he said.

"Yeah, it's of the park in the middle of town," she said. "I was there a few weeks ago and took some pictures as references. I liked this one the best. What do you think?"

"I think you picked a great one, because I work there as a groundskeeper, and I've never seen it look this good."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He wasn't so much complimenting her art as he was making a jab at himself and his employees for never cleaning it up when he needed them too. "Actually, I'm not so much a groundskeeper, but kind of the boss. It's no big deal, really."

She laughed. "That's still pretty cool. Too bad I already have a job or I'd try begging you to give me one."

He shrugged his shoulders with a smile and sat at a stool beside the canvas to watch her paint for a while. The sounds of traffic outside, along with the string ensemble on her stereo, were putting him to sleep, and he didn't want to walk back just yet. He held out his hand.

"I'm Benson, by the way."

She dipped her brush in some water and looked at his hand before shaking it herself.

"I'm Evelyn."


	9. The South Gate

"Right kick, left punch, left kick, right punch! Ah! Punch his head, override the systems, hurry, hurry! Smack, smack, smack, smash—okay," Rigby paused the game, "seriously, you're killing the vibe here, Mordecai."

"Huh?" The blue jay looked over from his spot on the couch. "What?"

"Dude, you're not even playing right. You're just sitting there with your feet up _not killing anything_."

Mordecai tossed his controller aside and rubbed his head. "Sorry, dude, just not feeling it right now."

"Well that's obvious! If you're not going to take this seriously, I'm going single player." Rigby switched to the menu screen, and without the will to argue, Mordecai slumped off the couch and headed outside.

"That's fine. You go ahead and do that."

He took a seat on the steps out front and hung his head in his hands. It was so hard to describe this sickness he was feeling. Yesterday he saw a ring on Margaret, and just this morning he saw her walking with someone new. He had all the opportunity to talk to her about Tom and pick her up on the rebound, but he was too distracted with Benson. He had his moment with her, and he blew it. Just blew it.

Might as well slap a dunce hat on me and call it a day, he thought. I'm such an idiot.

"There you are."

Mordecai looked up at the arriving golf cart and wished he'd stayed inside.

"Oh, hey, Benson."

"I thought I told you and Rigby to rake the leaves by the north gate."

"We did."

"I meant _all_ the leaves."

"Oh." He slumped again. "Sure, we'll get right on it."

Benson shook his head and marked on his clipboard, relaxing a little in his seat. "What's wrong with you today? I'd expect this kind of laziness from Rigby, but you've actually been doing a good job lately. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Margaret issues." He looked at him. "You kind of disappeared last night so you don't know, but she has a new boyfriend now. A new, taller, nicer looking boyfriend..." He shook his head. "So, what happened last night? I went out looking for you and you were just gone."

Benson continued to write. "Yeah I met someone and she offered to drive me home. I think I had one too many at that place..."

"Well I could have told you that—wait," Mordecai got up and sprinted down the steps to sit in the cart. "Did you say she?"

"Yeah I met a girl last night, and she took me home. Why?"

"Benson, that's great!" Maybe there was hope for him after all. "How'd it go? Did she stay the night at your place?"

He smirked and shook his head. "No, it's not like that."

"What why not? It sounds like a great set up."

"She was a student."

"So?"

"So she's a child. I'm practically old enough to be her father."

"Dude, it doesn't matter. Was she eighteen?"

"Nineteen."

"See? That's legal. Ha, I told you nineteen was your lucky number."

"Mordecai get out of my cart. I need to be somewhere soon."

"What? Where?"

"Doing my job. Which is what you should be doing."

Without arguing, Mordecai climbed out of the cart and let Benson drive away. "Well...think about it!" he shouted after him. "Love knows no age!" The cart vanished. "Or attitude apparently..." He went back inside to fetch a coat.

* * *

><p>It wasn't like Benson hadn't thought about what Mordecai said. He thought about it last night when Evelyn dropped him off at his place. But by then he was already in bed with the lights off, and she was long gone. It didn't take long for him to think the idea was silly—she was just too young.<p>

He parked by the south gate and finished up some more marks on his clipboard. Mr. Maellard was coming soon, and he was behind in his reports. That was the last thing he needed: some lecture by that overblown white collar of a pig. He was bound and determined to spend the afternoon getting the rest of his records in ship-shape, but he'd have to wait and do it as soon as she showed up.

* * *

><p>Mordecai wasn't in the mood for company, so after leaving Rigby behind with his single player, he dragged the rake back to the north gate and began raking up the rest of the leaves they'd forgotten earlier that morning. He hadn't gotten a full pile yet before he heard someone behind him.<p>

"Hello again."

He turned. It was Evelyn.

"Hey." He forced a smile. "Funny running into you here."

"Yeah. I've actually been wandering around for a bit." She adjusted a giant bag on her shoulder, the weight taking its toll on her side. "Do you know if this is the south gate by any chance?"

"No, this is the north gate, but just follow this path, and it'll get you where you're going."

"Oh, stupid," she smacked herself on the head. "Sorry, I get turned around really easily." She switched the bag to the other shoulder and went on her way. "Thanks a lot. It was great seeing you again."

"Yeah you too..." He raked a few more leaves before he got an idea and looked up in her direction. "Oh wait, Evelyn!" He ran to catch up with her. She turned to face him.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Sure. What kind of favor?"

"Two things. First, tell me about Margaret's new boyfriend."

"Oh, I don't know much about it." She moved the bag to her other shoulder yet again. "I know his name's Lyle but that's about all I got. Why?"

"That's the second favor. I need you to be my eyes and ears around Margaret."

"Huh?"

"I want you to fill me in on everything about this guy, and to tell me if there's a possible break up."

"I don't know, Mordecai. I hardly see her anymore..."

"I'm already asking Eileen. One more set of eyes and ears can't hurt, right?" He wondered if he was sounding desperate.

Evelyn smiled. "Aww, do you like her?"

"Yes. Yes I do. But don't tell her."

"I won't. Eileen kind of filled me in at the rink while you two were skating. I think it's romantic when a guy tries hard to win a girl over." She hugged the bag to her chest.

"Awesome, so you'll do it?"

"I guess. I can't promise a huge report, but I'll do my best."

"Yes! You got a pen and some paper?"

"Sure do." She unzipped a pocket of her bag and fished out what he needed. "This is an art student you're dealing with—of course I have a pen and paper."

"I know, used to be one myself." He took the pen and pad from her and scribbled out his number. "This is the line to the park house. Just ask for me if I'm not the one picking up."

"Will do." She waited until he finished and put her stuff back in the zipper. "I hope it goes well for you. I think you two make a great couple." She turned once more. "But I'm late for a meeting, so I better get going. I'll catch you later."

And he waved her off before going back to finish raking the leaves, his hope restored once again.

* * *

><p>She was running late. Benson checked his watch again, and already twenty minutes had gone by since their meet up time. He was about to pack it in and head back to the house when he saw her come trotting up from the center of the park. He turned on the engine and drove to meet her.<p>

"I thought you weren't coming," he said.

"I got the gates mixed up," she panted. "Sorry."

Evelyn sat herself in the cart beside him, and Benson smiled as he drove her to the house.

"Thanks for letting me use your office as a work space," she said. "It's really hard finding studio rooms without other students in them already. I promise I won't be a bother."

"It's fine, you're just painting. Besides, I'll be working on my record book all day, so it'll be nice to have company for a change."

"I brought some of my violin music if you're okay with that."

Benson shrugged. "It doesn't bother me."

"Okay, sweet." She leaned back and watched the scenery glide by, the small specs of snow already drifting around in her head. It was a good day.


	10. Good Company

_Sorry this took so long! It's that time of year for my senior thesis/project/paper to get turned in, so I've been busy with college life. Thanks for being so patient, and I hope you like the update!_

* * *

><p>Company is good. That's what Benson had decided long ago the night he almost died. The night Veronica left, the night his whole life fell to shambles, he blacked out in an unfamiliar street and awoke in the hospital days later, hooked up to machines that reflected jagged lines in the dirty glass of his head. His mother was there, holding his hand in hers, the only company he had who bothered to see if awoken from his coma or not, and he loved her for it. She passed a year later, joining his father in death, and even though they were human and had taken him in off the streets, they still meant the world to him, even now after being gone for nearly ten years.<p>

But with Evelyn painting in the corner of his office, as his boss shouted over him, calling him names other than his own, Benson felt better knowing that he did have company, and it was good.

Very good.

* * *

><p>"You know, it's been a few weeks since we met," Evelyn said one afternoon. She looked up at her companion that day and gave him a slight smile. "So tell me, how's life changed for you these several days?"<p>

Mordecai looked at her as the two of them sat on the edge of the park fountain, enjoying both conversation and the Chinese take out they had for lunch. He swallowed the rest of his chow mein and sighed.

"Not so good on my end," he said. "Between what you and Eileen tell me, Margaret's getting closer to this new guy, and it's been bumming me out big time."

Evelyn stirred her chopsticks in her noodles with an upset expression. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mordecai."

"It's fine. I just need to be patient. A friend of mine told me girls can go through phases, so I just need to wait for her to come out of it I guess."

"Easier said than done, than my friend." She slurped up a noodle. "Mmm, hey, remember that guy you brought to the roller rink with Margaret? The one I never got to meet, Mr. Sad and Lonely."

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you two get together and try hitting up some bars or clubs or something? It'll get your mind off things for a while at least. That's what my boyfriend does when he's upset."

"Eh, I'm not sure he's up for something like that. Although, he's actually been pretty nice to me lately, which is awesome, so he might. Too soon to tell I guess."

"Well that's great you guys are getting better along. You think he found somebody?"

"I think so. He said he met someone but keeps insisting she's too young for him." He took another bite of his food. "Then again, he won't tell me her name, so I have no clue to know if he's telling the truth or not."

"Why don't you ask him to take her along? To the bar or club I mean."

"I'm not sure he'll go for it, but can't hurt to try. It is buy one get one night at Sizzles."

"Well there you go." She patted him on the back and stood up to throw her trash away. "You go out and have a nice time to get her off your head."

"I'll try." He watched her go and come back, wiping her hands on the base of her body.

"Well, Mordecai, it's been nice chatting with you, but I have to get going now."

"Okay. You'll be here tomorrow?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I've come around here every day almost to paint—got me a secret spot." She smiled.

"Well I won't intrude and ask where it is, so you get to it, and I'll catch you later. Thanks for lunch."

"Don't mention it." Evelyn leaned down to pick up her bag and started back toward the house. As she went, Mordecai tossed out his own trash and took out his walkie-talkie. He pressed the talk button.

"Yo Bens, it's me," he said.

Between spouts of static, he heard his boss's agitated voice. "Yes? What is it?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to go out to a bar tonight. My treat."

"I don't know," he responded. "My performance review came in, so I've got a lot of work to do. Most of this I blame on you and Rigby, so don't get too chummy with me these next few days, pal."

"I'm not getting chummy, Benson; it's just for a few drinks. You can bring this lady friend I keep hearing about if you want."

"Absolutely out of the question, now get back to work; break's over." The static kissed out.

Mordecai rubbed his forehead.

"Well just think about it," he said and switched it off on his end. He took a moment to breathe, feeling the breeze coming in, and he held his breath as he fell back and landed into the cool water of the fountain.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Benson," said Evelyn. She slipped through his office door and shut it behind her as the gumball machine slid his walkie talkie to the edge of his desk.<p>

"Hey, welcome back."

"Got your eggrolls like you wanted." She set a bag in front of him and went to set up her canvas while Benson smiled and dug into his lunch.

"Thanks a lot; you made my day with these."

"Don't mention it. You've helped me out with a place to paint, so of course I'd do the same for you." She paused. "But not for a place to paint, for a good deed in return which would be getting your eggrolls."

"I got what you meant." He finished one in two bites and looked up at her as she started in on her painting. While munching on his second eggroll, he reflected on Mordecai's proposition earlier and wondered if it would be something she would be interested in. He reclined a bit in his chair and figured it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"So, Evelyn, what are your plans tonight?" He finished off the eggroll.

"I don't have any tonight. Ken's still out of town, so I'm probably just going home."

"Well do you want to do something together?"

She focused her attention on a stream she was painting. "Like what?"

"I don't know. A friend of mine suggested we could go to a bar or something."

"I'm not old enough to drink."

"Oh, right." He forgot about that. "Well, is there somewhere you'd like to go?"

"I don't really go out unless it's with Ken." She looked at him. "Coming here to paint and hang out is really the only thing I do on my own. Everything else is something he has to know about or I get in trouble."

Benson narrowed his gaze on her. "What do you mean get in trouble?"

"Oh, it's nothing serious. He's just one of those jealous types, you know?" She gave him a reassuring smile and went back to painting. "I actually think it's kind of cute that he doesn't want anybody taking me away from him. It's really sweet.""

Try sour, Benson thought.

"Well he doesn't hurt you does he?"

"Mmm, sometimes, but it's not his fault; it's usually mine. I'm not the brightest bulb in the lamp—so he says—so he does things sometimes to make sure I'm okay."

Benson leaned over onto his desk. "Evelyn, that's not good."

"It's fine for me, though. It's how my life's always been, even before him. I don't mind it."

"Well what would he do if he found out you were here?"

She shrugged and dipped her brush in some water. "I don't know. Yell at me probably, but what he does is dependent on how he feels that day. I'm sure he wouldn't care if he knew I came here to paint, so you shouldn't worry about it."

"Well if you're sure about it..."

"I am, don't worry. Besides, he's gone for the next few weeks on a band tour, so I've got the place to myself until November." She leaned in close to her canvas and began to paint in falling leaves. "But it's okay. It won't matter for too much longer."

"What?"

She looked at him. "Huh?"

"What's not going to matter?"

Evelyn hesitated. "How he feels, I guess. I'm almost done with this one, so when I am, I won't be coming around as often I don't think. I'll just be at home or at work again, so it's not going to matter soon."

Benson sunk into his chair and pulled his book of records down with him. "Really? You're leaving?"

She nodded. "I have a lot of other projects to focus on. I still need to get a big enough canvas for my performance piece, too, and that's coming up soon."

"Well that sucks. I really got used to having you around."

She gave him a smile. "Thanks. I got used to having you around too."

"Really?"

"Yeah , you're like a breath of fresh air." She thought of Mordecai too, and concluded he was one as well. "It's been really nice being able to go out and talk to people like this."

"You should do it more often, no matter what Ken says."

"So should you." Evelyn got up from her stool to stretch. "You should go out with your friend tonight and have a good time. I want a full report when I come in tomorrow, so you better do it."

He smiled. "Okay, but only if you'll keep coming around to say hi."

"I will."

"Then deal."


	11. Drown It

_Again to make up for the hiatus, here's another quick-update. Also, if anyone is interested in seeing what Evelyn looks like, if you go onto deviantart and type in "Evelyn Benson Regular Show" there should be a sketch that comes up of the two of them I drew a while back. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

><p>The sun was starting to set by the time Evelyn had her things packed away and ready to go. Benson waited for her at the bottom step of the house, a dark blue blazer secure over his body and some long pants over his legs to match. It was getting colder now.<p>

He shivered slightly and paced around in a circle, deep in thought. He offered earlier to Mordecai that meeting him at Sizzles would be best instead of going together. After all, Mordecai would already be on that side of town by nightfall and Benson wanted to make sure Evelyn got home okay. Now that it started getting darker outside earlier than before, he didn't want to take any chances.

Benson rolled on the balls of his feet and checked his watch for the third time in waiting. He wasn't running late, not yet anyway, but he didn't want to keep Mordecai waiting for too long. After all, it was the blue jay's treat, and he didn't want to be a rude or ungrateful recipient. Not to mention he could already taste the vodka and gin just thinking about it.

"Hey, sorry," Evelyn said on her way down the steps. Her grey striped scarf blew in the wind as she wrapped it around her neck and joined him at the bottom. "Turns out I'm out of paint cleaner, so it was hard to clean the brushes without it. Thanks for walking me home, by the way. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it." His hands were shoved into the pockets of his blazer, and he offered her an elbow that she gratefully accepted with her own. The night came to life as street lamps flickered on in the twilight as the two made their way out of the park and onto the main street. Evelyn looked over to Benson.

"It's getting really cold out," she said, just something to start a conversation. A slight shiver went up her spine as she clung closer to him, her scarf still wafting in the breeze. "I should probably start bringing a coat with me."

"It wouldn't hurt. You know, I've been praying for cold weather like this for months now. I had one of the worst summers imaginable, so I'm glad it's done for."

"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't so bad."

"Ugh, it was terrible. You're too young to understand it just yet, but you'll go through a time in your life where you find yourself at dead end—no way out. You'll wake up one morning and realize your life has been a waste, and all you want to do is run into oncoming traffic—no looking back. Imagine waking up like that every day from June to September, and that would be my summer in a nutshell."

Evelyn stopped with him at the corner and waited for the cross signal. "Aww, I'm sorry you had to go through that, Benson."

"It's alright. Everyone says it's part of life, so you'll get there one day I'm sure." He placed a hand on her hat and moved it lovingly around on her head. "Hopefully not for a while though."

"Stop it." She took hold of her hat so he couldn't mess with it any longer, and he smiled while putting his hands back in his pockets. They stood in silence a moment as the traffic zoomed by, and crossing her arms from the cold, Evelyn turned to him.

"Hey, Benson, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," he replied.

"I have this friend, you see. He's not a good friend, more like an acquaintance, and he really likes this girl that's one of my good friends."

"Uh-huh?"

"Well I want to help him out because he's been really sweet to me lately, so I've been wondering if I should try sabotaging her relationship with this other guy so they can get together." She paused. "Would that be too selfish?"

Benson thought a moment. "I don't know. Maybe. I'm not really the type who condones getting involved with things that aren't my business."

Her voice softened. "What if you were the type?"

"I'd probably still say no. My parents raised me with good ethics and morals, so I don't think it would be right to do something like that. Those things should probably just happen on their own."

"Mmm, I guess you're right." The light changed and the two crossed the highway. "It's just, I really want to do something nice for someone."

"Then just be a good friend to him and this other girl, and if the time comes when she breaks up with him, then you can go from there and try to set something up. Just don't be an instigator; no one likes that."

She cupped her hands together as they made it to the other side. "Mmm thanks, Benson. You're pretty good at advice giving—you know that? Did you go through something like this or something?"

"Who me?" He stared up at the sky and shrugged. "Kind of, I guess. I knew this girl a long time ago and someone came between us kind of like that, so I'm just going off my own experiences."

"Oh. I'm sorry." She tapped him on the back. "Well whoever she is, I hope she's not happy where she is now."

"Mmm, last time I heard, she got a divorce from the guy and took half his money." He paused. "And the house. And the pets. And the kids..." He trailed off, suddenly feeling very low.

"Oh, well..." Evelyn slowed her walking when she saw him dip in his posture. A look of concern came across her face. "Hey, you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You look kind of sick. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I'm fine..." He nodded down the street. "Come on, your building's the next block from here, right?"

She nodded as they continued on their journey, this time in complete silence. The only other words exchanged where goodnights and goodbyes when Evelyn went into her apartment and Benson sauntered off to join Mordecai at the bar. The stars didn't even have the courtesy to shine that night.

* * *

><p>Benson downed another shot before slamming it down beside a pile of limes. He sighed and turned to face Mordecai who did the same.<p>

"Man," the blue jay said, trying to maintain focus. "You do this once a week?"

"Without fail." He grabbed some chips from the bowl between them and smirked. "Why, you can't handle it?"

"Pff, I can handle your challenge, Benson." He too took a wing-full of chips and munched on them as he looked around.

"Heh, you better. I'm an old man; you've got youth on your side at least...can hold your alcohol better, and stuff..." he slurred.

"Hey, hey," Mordecai said, slurring too, "I am telling you right now, Benson, that you need to knock that off."

"Knock what off?"

"You're not old, man. You're just not young...er. Just not younger, yeah. You're fine, so quit beating yourself up over it."

Benson rubbed his head and rested on his elbows on the countertop. "Thanks, Mordecai. Means a lot."

"I mean, l-look at that guy over there." He nodded to a booth in the back where three white collars sat hunched over the table in serious conversation. The blue jay patted his back. "See that? Those are the old guys. Bet they come in here after work and fight over bills and stuff."

"Pff, I do that shit sober." He sucked on one of the limes.

"No, no, you're better than them—I mean it. I bet they fight about children too. Could you imagine? Coming out to drink and end up talking about kids and stuff?"

Benson tried his hardest not to but broke down on the bar anyway, shoving his head down deep into his arms. He shook a little, trying not to cry even though he could feel tears trying to fight their way out.

* * *

><p>Evelyn had only been home a few minutes before the silence of the place overwhelmed her. She turned on the radio—some rock music began playing—and the television—some old cartoons—while she paced around the apartment. She put away her portfolio and contemplated making dinner, but there was something on her mind that wouldn't go away, even with the distraction of animations and guitar riffs.<p>

Not knowing what else to do, she picked up the phone and dialed a number, waiting a few rings before someone picked up on the other line.

"Hey Evelyn. What's up?"

"Hi Ken." Her voice was soft as she wrapped the cord around her finger. "I was just checking up on you to see how you were doing. How's the show going?"

"We're doing fine. We made some serious cash in tips last night playing at this place called Forgie's—definitely enough to make the car payment for sure."

"That's great, honey."

"What about you? What are you up to?"

"Just got done painting. I was thinking about making some dinner, but I think—"

"Evelyn?"

"Ken?"

"Evelyn? You there?"

"I'm here."

"Hey, I can't hear you very well; you're cutting in and out. Listen, I need to get going, but you take care of yourself okay?"

"Okay. Tell the boys I said—"

"Love you, bye." He hung up.

"Love you too..." she said to the dial tone.

Not quite upset, but not quiet happy either, she hung up the phone and decided to skip dinner for a shower. She slipped off her scarf, gloves and hat, and stepped into the tub, hoping the hot water would make her feel more at ease with whatever it was she was feeling. She stood there for a long time, letting the steam build up around her frame as she leaned against the light pink tile of the walls. The water pattering against her, the floor, and the curtain were all she could hear, and it still wasn't enough.

Biting her lip, she slid her hand between her legs and felt for the tiny brass knob that resided there—neglected for far too long a time. She pinched it between her fingers and twisted it softly, each one making her blush and want to make small, gasping sounds, but she held them in. After five turns, she took her hand back and rested it against the wall, panting very slightly as the steam caressed her body. She listened closely as the music box melody chimed to life within her heart, but wanted it soon to stop when the keys began to lull out of tune before dying off-key, never making it to the end of the song. Her imperfection was still there.

Evelyn rubbed her head against the tile and cried about it the rest of the night, her tears mixing with the water that danced in rapid circles around the drain.


	12. Two Tickets

It was hard to fall asleep alone. Evelyn ended up tossing and turning most of the night, unable to shake the feelings mulling around in her head. She tried calling Ken three times throughout all of it, and each time the call cut out due to poor reception. Because of this, she ended up rolling herself out of bed at a quarter til noon, not eight on the dot like she planned.

This caused her to be an hour late in finishing her painting, even though she skipped breakfast in order to get it done quicker. It sat against the wall to dry that afternoon while Evelyn got to work with the rest of her chores, including scrubbing down the apartment, making it as clean as a whistle. She hoped Ken would notice all the hard work she put into keeping up the place, and that it would make him happy when he came home. She liked it when he was happy. When he was happy, so was she.

But then again, there was that doubt.

She remembered how he surprised her one afternoon, not too long ago, when he took her on a date to the amusement park. That night was the most fun she'd had in forever it felt like, and she had him to thank for it. She remembered when they split a fresh, hot apple fritter at one of the snack bars, and how he held an arm around her shoulder to keep her warm from the cold. The steam from their food fogged up her face when they cut into it, and he snickered while drawing in a smiley with his finger. He told her she was beautiful when she has a smile, and that she should do it more often around him.

"You always say the nicest things," she said to him. He kissed her on the cheek and went back to finishing his half of the fritter, and Evelyn leaned on her elbow, feeling her words were empty. Already finished with her half, and stared off into the crowd, mindlessly of all things, her cheek resting in the palm of her hand, and her gaze traveled back to a certain Mr. Orange Jacket that she borrowed her chair from. While Ken took his last bite and talked to some of the people that came with them, she couldn't help but smile for real.

What an interesting way to eat an apple, she thought.

* * *

><p>"You didn't have a good night, did you?" Evelyn said with an air of sadness. Chores complete, she decided to pay her friend a visit and get his report from the previous night, but standing in the dark office of the house, she was starting to get second thoughts.<p>

Benson slumped over his desk, dimly lit with the blinds closed and another icepack pressed against his head—almost routine to him by that point. The gumball machine made no notion to look her in the eye as she stood on the other side of him, her portfolio bag slung over across her shoulder.

"No," he said still looking down.

She watched him for a while, pulling on her cream-colored coat to make it fit tighter around her body. Her voice softened, "I'm sorry."

He stayed quiet, afraid if he tried to speak again, his head would shatter into a million pieces. Evelyn eventually took a step toward the door, never taking her eyes off him.

"I just came by to see how your night went, but I can come back another time…"

Benson nodded. "Yeah...another time." He winced and a shiver went down his spine.

Evelyn took another step before speaking up again.

"Hey, listen. If you want, I have to go see a film downtown for one of my classes tomorrow night." She fished inside her pocket. "I have two tickets for it since Ken was going to go with me, but he's out of town now, so I wanted to know if you'd like the extra."

He glanced her way just as she pulled out the ticket and slid it to him across the desk. "It's an artsy film," she continued. "Black and white—that kind of stuff. Hardly any dialogue, lots of dancing..." The room got quiet again, and her voice dropped to a bare whisper. "If you're not interested, it's okay."

"I'll go," he whispered back, and tried to focus on the ticket well enough to pull it closer to him for safe keeping. Evelyn smiled when he did.

"Alright then," she said, taking another step. "I'll see you tomorrow? Meet up here?"

He nodded and waved her off.

* * *

><p>Evelyn sat in the coffee shop and sighed into her scarf, a frown chiseled on her face while she toyed with the second movie ticket on the tabletop. Margaret appeared from the kitchen and approached her with a coffee mug.<p>

"Chai latte with 2% like you like," she said, setting it down.

Evelyn lifted her head. "Thanks Margaret." She pulled it over and took a sip while the robin sat across from her.

"So."

"So?"

"Mm, you're looking a little blue today I noticed. What's the occasion?"

She smiled into her latte. "I'm not blue."

"Come on. Don't hide it."

"Who says I'm hiding?" She avoided eye contact.

Margaret continued to smile and be cheerful as she stroked a wing along her arm.

"Come on. Spill it, snow sister."

She chuckled at her high school nickname and shifted around in her seat. "Oh, it's nothing important."

"Looks important from where I'm sitting."

She looked at her. "It's really not. Just me dealing with things I guess." She took another sip and let it warm her throat.

"Hmm. It's not Ken again is it?"

"Mmm? No, he's actually been pretty great lately."

"Then what's upsetting you?"

She drummed her fingers around her mug and thought a moment. "I don't think I know. It's just one of those ruts you know?"

"Well, I think I know what's wrong."

"You do?"

"Yeah. You're just nervous about your performance piece coming up, isn't it?"

Evelyn felt nauseous and quickly looked away. "No...I don't want to talk about that right now..."

Margaret tapped the table. "Ah-ha, I knew it. You're just stressed out is all." She stood up. "But don't worry about it, sweetie, you'll do a fantastic job with it. You're bound to get rave reviews—you're a bright girl."

Evelyn couldn't bring herself to look at her, so instead she nodded in thanks and sipped more of her latte, feeling even worse as Margaret headed back into the kitchen.

The bell rang above the front door, and aside from her own thoughts, Evelyn could hear in the background footsteps coming toward her table. She nonchalantly glanced over her shoulder as a woman walked right by her and sat at the table next to hers. She was a blonde gumball machine, perhaps one of the prettiest ones she'd ever seen, all bundled up in a coat that looked remarkably similar to hers, only black and more concealing.

"I like your coat," she caught herself saying, almost immediately before the patron had time to sit down.

The woman in question looked up at her through a pair of dark sunglasses, and Evelyn noticed small streaks on her glass, almost like dried tears. She regretted saying anything. It seemed like everyone in the world was out to have a bad day.

But she was pleasantly surprised by her response.

"Thank you," she said, putting a napkin on her lap. "Do you work here by any chance, miss?"

"Oh, no, I'm a customer too." She pulled her knees up and hugged them, rocking back and forth a little. "But I know the girl who does work here. She's in the back if you want me to get her."

"That would be lovely."

Evelyn stood and straightened out her scarf. "Or, if you want, I can just tell her your order if you know what you want to have."

"Mmm, my doctor says no heavy drinking, so as long as there's no alcohol in it I'm fine." She leaned over the table and rubbed her forehead, pulling her purse up to the table. "But I'd love anything with cinnamon right now." She smiled. "So surprise me."

"Okay, I'll let her know." Evelyn picked her own cup from the table, shoving the ticket back into her pocket, and headed to the kitchen to see Margaret when a thought crossed her mind. She turned back to the customer.

"Sorry, but can I have your name? I need it so she can put it on the order."

"Yes," she said while rearranging the salt and pepper shakers. "It's Veronica."

"Veronica," Evelyn repeated. She smiled on her way to the kitchen. "Nice, I'll remember that."


	13. Film Grain

_A/N: Hey guys, sorry again, but here's another short update. Senior Research time is coming to a close and due dates are strangling my life right now, so expect more frequent updates within the next few weeks. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

><p>"They said the cause of death was suicide."<p>

"Suicide?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"But a boy that young? Oh, that's such a shame."

"Quite Tragic."

"Indeed."

Benson glanced over at the small group of people gathered around at the street corner. In a way he pitied them—it was five in the afternoon and all of them were sober, himself included. After last night though, he didn't want to drink for a while, or at least not today. Today, he and Evelyn had a movie to go to, and while he waited to cross the main street, he couldn't help but overhear this stirring conversation.

"My brother works in forensics," one of them said. "He says the boy's gumballs were scattered all over the house, in interesting places no less."

"Like where?"

"The family safe, his father's desk, his mother's closet, a lot of places. They found him bone empty hanging by his neck in the family's dining room. They haven't disclosed the note he left yet though, so we're still waiting to see what caused it."

"And he was the family's only son?"

"Only son—heir and everything. Although since the divorce..."

The light changed, and Benson pulled the coat around his chest to hurry across the street.

* * *

><p>The woman in black enjoyed her cinnamon swirl latte—enough in fact to tip both Margaret and Evelyn fifty dollars each come closing time. When Evelyn helped Margaret sweep up at the end of her shift, the woman pulled her aside to speak with her by the salad bar.<p>

"You were such a delightful young lady to talk to," she said.

"Well thank you, ma'am. I try," Evelyn replied.

Veronica fished inside her purse and brought out a business card. "Please, take this. This is my name, home address, and phone number. I'm going through a hard time right now, and speaking to you has really helped my spirits as of late. I'd like to see more of you if that's alright—over another cinnamon latte perhaps?"

"Of course, ma'am." Evelyn took the card and slipped it into her coat pocket. "It's been nice talking with you too."

"Good luck on your artworks, darling. I'd love to purchase one if you'd be so kind as to bring one on our next encounter."

Evelyn lit up. "Oh, I'd love to. That would be great—thank you."

"My pleasure." She wrapped her arms around the snow globe and gave her a motherly kiss on the forehead. "Take care, darling."

And then she was gone.

Evelyn waited outside her apartment the following afternoon, the tickets to the movie inside her coat alongside the business card from yesterday's encounter. Benson would be arriving any second, and then they'd be off to the other side of town to watch their film. She sighed and rested against the brick wall of her building and wondered if that Veronica woman would have enjoyed the film more than him. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy Benson's company, but she was starting to wonder if he really enjoyed hers.

With those thoughts in mind, she pulled the business card out of her pocket and studied the phone number listed at the bottom. That woman's elegant demeanor surely hinted she'd enjoy this film, and maybe getting out would help her get over whatever sadness she was feeling. And Benson on the other hand...

"Hi, Evelyn."

She looked over just as the gumball machine came into view. His smiling face made hers light up, and she cupped her hands over the card.

"Benson. Hi."

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah."

He held out his arm for her, and she took it. On their way down the road, those thoughts vanished as quickly as they'd arrived, and Evelyn shoved Veronica's card back into her pocket.

Maybe Benson needed this more than her after all.

* * *

><p><em>"There goes a man—the gallows loom above him. They'll get the quick lime mixed in which to shove him. They'll put his neck just under where the noose is—and what's he thinking of the idiot floosies?"<em>

Benson sighed and sunk lower in his seat, staring up at the singing woman on screen. In the old theatre on the rundown side of the city, he stared around at the several other people scattered throughout the space and wondered what would possess anyone to see this film. The black and white grain with poor sound and vocals could only be taken seriously for so long, and the story was just odd to boot.

He looked over at Evelyn with a notepad in her lap who jotted down several things that came to her mind during the piece. He smiled. She had nice handwriting.

Evelyn glanced over once and did a double take when she saw him watching her.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

"Nothing. It's just nice to see something in color for a change."

She smiled, a bit flattered. "Thanks, but are you not enjoying it? We can leave if you want."

"No, it's okay, I'm fine, it's just...I don't know what's happening."

"It is pretty hard to follow, but it's still one of my favorite stories."

"Why?"

"Because at the end he doesn't die. The crook never gets his comeuppance, and everyone sings about how it's the end and everything is fine."

"Ugh...This movie..." Benson rubbed his face in his hands.

Evelyn's smile faded. "Oh...I think it's beautiful..."

"Huh?"

"That concept I mean. How he doesn't die and everything's okay in the end. I don't know—I just really like that ending..."

Benson sat up in his seat and pulled at his coat. "I'm not saying it's bad. I just think it's weird. I guess I like stories that do come full circle in the end, but that's just me."

"Things make sense that way I guess..." she jotted down a few more notes.

He watched her. "Are you okay, Evelyn?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm fine., fine I've just had a lot on my mind the past few days, but I'm alright." She smiled again to reassure him. "But thanks for coming out here with me. It means a lot."

"Anytime. I miss not having you around at the park."

"That's sweet. And I'd love to stop by more often, but I met someone yesterday who I think needs more of my time."

"What? Who?"

"This woman—she's a gumball machine too actually. She was just really upset yesterday when I met her, and she wants me to see her more often to cheer her up I guess. Bad things going on her life, and she needs someone to talk to."

"Bad things going on in everyone's life..."

"Yeah..." She took more notes.

Benson glanced over to her again. "Well then, maybe we can meet for dinner or something. I'd like to hear how your studies are going."

"I can't. I work nights usually."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

The two sat in silence and watched more of the film. Another few moments passed before Evelyn turned to him.

"But if you want..." she started, "part of my job requires one on one training with teaching people how to skate. If you don't know how, I could teach you."

"Oh, I'm not a good skater."

"That's even better—we can hang out and I can teach you. I'd be getting paid for seeing you practically."

"Maybe. I'll think about it."

"Okay."

The two went back to watching the movie.

"But thanks for the offer," Benson whispered.

"Anytime..." she whispered back. "I like seeing you."

"I like seeing you too."

And Benson had to resist the urge to slip his hand over hers.


	14. One New Message

_"Hey, Evelyn. It's Ken. Listen, the boys got into some trouble with the stage manager at the gig, so it turns out we're heading home a little earlier than planned. I already checked the calendar, and with travel time and whatnot, I'll be coming into town sometime in the next two days. That puts me there on a Friday, so I was thinking we could go out and have a date night or something and catch up. Just something for us, you know? Alright, listen, I'm on a payphone so I've gotta make this short. But I'll see you Friday, baby. I love you. Bye."_

The answering machine cut off.

* * *

><p>It was late. Benson didn't trust Evelyn going home on her own, especially coming from such a shady side of town, so after the film he took it upon himself to take her back, and in the dim streetlights of the city, he said to her, "The night's still young, Evelyn. Do you want to do something else?"<p>

The snow globe shoved her fists in the pockets of her coat and smiled as they walked. "I'd love to, Benson, really, but I've got a pretty big day tomorrow."

"It won't be anything too special," he told her. "I just want to see more of you. This woman you've told me about gets to see you. Why not me?"

"You are seeing me."

"Right now maybe, but what about tomorrow?"

She shook her head. "I'm meeting her at her house, then meeting a friend for lunch, and then after that I'm working a double shift."

"Then why don't you let me stay over for a little bit? We can talk."

She looked up at him. "Why? What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you want to hang out so bad? Is there something on your mind?" She forced out a chuckle. "I mean, if it's personal it's okay, but is there something going on you need to talk about?"

Benson thought a moment and shook his head. "No, nothing I can think of right now..." Even though it was a lie. "It's like I said at the theater, I just like seeing you."

"Mmm...time's not exactly on our side on this one I'm afraid."

He nodded solemnly.

"Yeah, yeah...but, for argument's sake, if there was something I needed to talk about...would you let me in?"

They stopped outside of her apartment.

"Of course I would," she replied. "Why? Is there really something you need to talk to me about? Be honest."

"Yeah, there is," he tried not to smile. "I've umm...got some issues that I need to get out."

"Oh, well if that's the case," she fished in her pocket and brought out her keys, "then please, come in."

* * *

><p>Ken slammed the trunk and went back inside his room at the motel. All packed, with a few more minutes to spare, he flopped down on the bed and switched on the T.V.<p>

The toilet flushed the next room over, followed by a woman coming out of the bathroom who pulled at her leopard skin skirt over black fishnet stockings. She made eye contact with Ken and nodded in his direction before glancing over to the sitcom playing on screen. She scoffed.

"Like families like this exist."

"What?"

She looked at him and shrugged. "Just personal grudges I guess." She looked back at the screen and sighed as she lit up a cigarette. "Sure looks nice though."

He stared at her. "What the hell are you talking about? Your hour's up you know."

"I know, I know." She pulled her onto her shoulder and huffed out a cloud of smoke. "You got any change for bus fare?"

"I just gave you fifty dollars."

"And that was after a discount already. Buses can't split fifties."

He sighed and fished in his pocket for some quarters. He flicked them over to her one by one and watched her pick them up from the floor. He smirked while she did.

"Tell your Dad I said hi," he said.

She gave him a dirty look before storming out the door. Alone again, Ken went back to watching T.V.

* * *

><p>"And my grandmother hit me because of it."<p>

"Just for taking a cookie?"

"Just for taking a cookie," Benson repeated.

Evelyn sat cross-legged on her couch while Benson sat in an armchair across from her. She leaned over for her tea on the table, a look of sympathy written on her face. "That's a little harsh..."

"Yeah, my mom didn't like her anyway, so she made my dad agree to never let me see her again. I was okay with it—I hated that woman."

"Still, living in that house with her those few months had to be terrifying."

"She thought I was an abomination of God or something—thinks that way about anything nonhuman."

"Mmm I know how that feels..." She stared at her reflection in the glass table while Benson leaned into the cushion.

"But...my parents? Now they were great. Not too many folk who would take in a gumball machine for a son, but they did."

"They sound like wonderful people."

Benson nodded. "They were. Always knew what to say, always knew what to do. It was weird for a while after they died. You feel the whole world stops, but it just keeps going and you learn to deal if you're capable of it."

Evelyn nodded and took a sip from her mug. Benson looked over at her.

"But that's all I really had in mind to talk about. I knew you'd understand because we're so similar."

She smiled. "I'm glad I could help. Even if it's just listening."

"So, what about you?" He sat up.

"What about me?"

"What was your childhood like? I'm sure you could remember yours more clearly then I could mine." He gave a lighthearted chuckle.

She shrugged. "It was average I guess. Grew up in the country with a white picket fence and everything. Kind of the staple of the American image, don't you think?"

"You told me once your life was a bit rough though. You let me dump my problems on you, so why don't you tell me about that?"

She shook her head. "It's not important. Nothing near as bad as the kind of prejudice you went through back in the day." She took another sip. "Mmm, and I did have my mom there to be an outlet for me to talk to, so at least there was that."

"Was she sweet to you at least?"

Evelyn could see the ripples forming in her tea. Her nerves were starting up. "She was in a way..." she looked at him. "But I'm really tired, Benson. If that's all you needed, maybe it's best you should go."

He gave her a concerned look. "But I want to hear about you. Tell me something else about yourself. What was your dad like—?"

"I don't want to talk right now," she said, looking him in the eye. "Please. I mean, it's just getting late, and I need to be up early in the morning." She looked down at her mug. "I probably shouldn't be drinking this tea now that I think about it."

"Well—"

Benson was almost taken aback when she stood abruptly at headed for the kitchen. He followed her and watched as she poured the drink down the drain and began to wash it to put away. He swallowed, feeling a tad awkward.

"Okay, then...I'll see myself out."

She turned. "Do you need me to show you the door?"

"No, no, I can find it." He took a step toward the living room. "Umm...thanks for talking with me tonight—the movie too. It was all great."

She smiled and leaned against the counter to dry the mug. "I'm really glad you liked it—and I'd love to see you more if you ever need an ear to talk into."

"I'll keep that in mind." He smiled. "Thanks, I'll be seeing you."

"See you."

And Benson left. When he shut the door behind him, Evelyn placed the dry mug in the cabinet and walked back into the living room to clean up before bed. She pulled her coat from the table when she noticed the beeping number on the answering machine, notifying her she had one new message. Curious, she pressed play.


	15. Drink Alone

_A/N: Senior Research is now over (huzzah!) so having that off my shoulders will warrant longer, more focused chapters from this point on, so thanks for reading and enjoy!_

* * *

><p>"So...you're coming home?" Evelyn asked.<p>

"Yeah. Excited?" It sounded like Ken was smiling. "I got you a little something in Reno, and I was thinking about taking you to that new seafood place by city hall when I get back. What do you think of that?"

"Ooh, a present and seafood? You're spoiling me."

"Well, you're still there to answer the phone, so we haven't been evicted yet. Got to celebrate something, don't we?"

"Very true." She took a moment to wrap the phone cord around her wrist. "So...did you make any new friends in Reno?"

"Really? Don't even want to ask how I've been?"

"I have before, and you've told me. So, how many?"

"Well...only two."

"Only two?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm. What were their names?"

Ken scoffed. "Come on, Ev...you know I don't ask for their names."

She pulled at the cord to tighten it. "Well, I'm still waiting for that day when you do."

"It's not going to come, Ev." He was starting to get defensive. "Look, if you're going to be like this, then you shouldn't have brought it up in the first place, okay?"

"Fine. Sorry."

There was a pause on the other end.

"...Ken?"

"Yeah? Sorry, bad connection out here...Besides, it's you making the new friends that would be the problem here, wouldn't it?"

Another hesitation.

"Right?...You still there?" he asked.

"Yeah...Yeah, I'm still here. Bad connection."

"...Evelyn."

"What?"

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

"What? No."

"Are you upset with me about this?" He was getting real defensive now. "Look, don't pin any of this bullshit on me. It was your idea, and I'm not going to—"

"I know, I know! I'm not upset, okay? I'm just..." She forced herself to simmer down. "...I'm just lonely here...without you around, you know?"

"Well, I'll be there soon, so just do yourself a favor and calm the fuck down already. Stay inside, okay? And lock the doors, and don't answer it for anybody, alright?"

"Alright."

"Good. I've got to go now. Don't get yourself down so much; you start to bum me out after a while. I love you, and I'll see you soon. Bye."

"Bye."

She pressed the dial to hang up, but let the phone dangle from her wrist for a few more seconds.

The clock hadn't even chimed midnight yet before Evelyn walked outside in the rain and stood there for over an hour, completely out of spite.

* * *

><p>Benson shook his head that morning at the sheer, rotten luck that was about to come his way. Sitting in his office and going through the records, already he marked twelve instances of broken dishes, and nine cases of vandalism of park property. He hadn't even started on assault charges from the park-goers looking to make an extra buck in lawsuits. Maellard was going to have his head...<p>

There was a knock at the door.

Great, exactly what I need right now, he thought. "Come in."

Mordecai opened the door and stepped inside. "Hey, Benson. Got those copies you needed me to get." He set them on his desk.

"Great, thanks, and you're only..." he checked his watch, "ten minutes late getting here. Wonderful job, Mordecai."

"Sorry, there was a line at the print shop. Give me a break; it's a busy time of the year."

"There's no excuse for tardiness."

"Look, I can understand an hour, but ten minutes? Really? Look, this is the fourth time today you've been snarky toward me. If I did something to piss you off, would you at least tell me first before getting mad for no reason?"

"I'm busy, Mordecai."

"It's when we went to the bar, isn't it? You haven't been able to look me in the eye at all since that night—you're not even looking at me now—you're looking at your park records when we're having a conversation for God's sake."

He glared up at him. "There. Happy now?"

"Dude, Benson, what's your problem? I've been trying to talk to you and help you out, but you're not letting me."

"I don't need help from anybody. It's personal business."

"Personal business, huh? Then way to fucking bring it into the workplace, man. It's what's her face isn't it? That girl you've been seeing?"

He sighed and tossed his pen on the record book, leaning back in his chair. "We're not seeing. Not eye to eye anyway."

"Well get over it. You can't let your anger out on your employees like this—it's really messed up."

"What's messed up, Mordecai, is this situation I'm in—all thanks to you by the way."

"Thanks to me?"

"Yes. If I hadn't gone with you to that art exhibit I wouldn't have met her in the first place and I wouldn't be feeling so conflicted."

"What's to feel so conflicted about?"

"A lot of things! She's a child, Mordecai. A nineteen year old child, and I'm having these, these...thoughts about wanting to be with her." He sighed and rubbed his forehead, resting his elbows on the desk. "We're so much a like in a lot of ways, but aside from her age she's got this stupid, fucking boyfriend who I'm pretty such is abusing her, and she won't open up to me about anything. It's really annoying, and I'm tore between wanting to be with her and wanting to play Daddy."

"Look, I'm sorry about your relationship issues right now, but we all have them. You're not special; you're the only one who's going through shit. And you're certainly not the only one pining for someone who's already in a relationship with a complete dick. We've been over this, remember?"

"Yeah, well, you've got youth on your side. I don't. You have all the time in the world to fix your mistakes. Wait until you're my age. Then it's a wake up call."

"That's obvious." Mordecai didn't say another word before storming out the door and leaving the gumball machine alone again.

Sighing, Benson pulled out his phone and dialed Evelyn's number.

She didn't pick up.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

* * *

><p>She was losing focus. After nearly three hours of being in the estate, she was finally succumbing to idle daydreaming.<p>

"And that was my trip to the Bahamas last year..." Veronica reminisced on the couch. "And after that, James didn't talk to me much—still sure with himself and his theories I was sleeping with the help. Ha, like I would stoop so low as to have relations with a bellhop."

"Yes, ma'am..." Evelyn trailed off. She'd been repeating that same line for hours.

Veronica sighed and looked over at her companion on the armchair across the drawing room. "What's wrong, darling? Why are you acting so blue? I would hope my anecdotes wouldn't bring such a charismatic little thing such as yourself down like this."

"Hmm? Oh...it's nothing." She sat up straight. "I was just expecting something else from this visit is all..."

"Like what?" The gumball machine sat up a bit as well.

"I just figured you wanted to talk about what happened with your son..." she trailed off. "I mean, that's what we discussed at the coffee shop the other day, and...yeah...I wasn't expecting the whole story of your marriage..."

Veronica drummed her fingers on the couch in minor thought before standing and making her way over to the liquor cabinet. "You know what, dear? You're right. I've been wasting both our precious times talking of James and not of...Niles." It took her a moment to get the name out. She shook her head and grabbed a bottle from the shelf along with two glasses. "I feel I'd have to be prepared to talk about that, I'm afraid, so would you care to join me in a brandy? I never drink alone if I can help it."

"I don't drink..." Evelyn said shyly from her chair.

"You don't drink?" she asked. "Huh...I can't imagine breakfast without a drink, let alone life." She sighed heavily. "But if you're certain..." She put up the extra glass.

Evelyn hugged her knees. "Look, I'm here to help you, Ms. Veronica, but if you really don't want to talk about it, then that's okay. I just want to know, that's all."

The gumball machine took her place back on the couch and poured herself a glass.

"Oh...I'm sorry, sweetheart. I just don't know what to do with how I feel. I've been requested to acquire more hobbies and attempt to keep myself preoccupied but...I always find myself thinking of him one way or another." She took a swig.

"Like how?"

"Mmm...I've taken up art recently, but I can't paint anything except Niles. I took up ceramics too, but no matter what I make, it will remind me of him. I've been taking piano lessons for years, but recently have I been inhibited from playing anything else other than pieces that reflect this...this...depression I've been feeling."

"That's only natural, ma'am. There's no shame in it."

"That's what my tutors keep saying at any rate." She finished her glass and sighed. "It's been so hard to talk to strangers who know the circumstances of why he did it. James doesn't even know yet—he's off in Peru on business..."

"Your husband doesn't even know yet?"

"Ex-husband."

"But the funeral..."

"He didn't go." She looked at her. "As far as he knows, his son's doing fine and well in boarding school and having a grand old time at Mama's estate for the autumn holidays..." Tears were starting to well in her eyes that she quickly dabbed at with her handkerchief. "Oh, dear..."

Evelyn stayed quiet.

Veronica sniffed, keeping the piece of cloth to her face. "...And lately I've been asking myself how much differently my life would have been if I'd stayed with any of my other previous suitors that I gave up for that rat bastard. You're too young to know these kinds of things just yet, child, but there will come a time in your life when you'll want that nice looking dress in the window and give up your nice, warm, jacket just to try it on..." She looked at her and tried to smile. "But listen to me—going on about metaphors of dresses when you're the one here who's supposed to cheer me up. Go on, dear, tell me a clever joke." She reclined on the couch, the handkerchief in one hand, and the bottle of brandy hanging by the neck on the other.

Evelyn swallowed. "Okay...um...let's see...a leper walks into a bar, and the bar tender says to him, 'we don't serve your kind here.' The leper says to him, 'oh, well, it's no skin off my nose..."

Veronica looked over at her. "Was that a joke?"

She slumped. "Oh. Sorry, I don't know many jokes..."

"It's alright, dear..." She took a long swig from the bottle. "Mmm...maybe it's best you go."

"Huh? Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes. I have a lot of work this afternoon, and I'm sure you do as well. Thank you for bringing me over that painting—quite gorgeous, yes. I'll have Milton set it up in the guest room immediately."

"Oh. Thank you for enjoying it." She stood with her bag. "Well then, please, take care, ma'am. I know it's hard in these times of need to reach out to someone, but I—"

"Yes, yes. Do come back though, darling. It's going to take me a bit of time, but I do want to talk about him with someone..." she trailed off, her voice becoming somber. "Please."

She nodded, understanding, as her phone vibrated again in her pocket. "Yes ma'am. Just give me a call when you need me. I'll be there to answer it." She checked her screen. Another incoming call from Benson. She pressed ignore again, starting to get irritated.

"Thank you, darling. I will take you up on the offer soon, I promise. Milton, please, escort Miss Wimberley out, would you?"

Evelyn turned to the servant who nodded and led her from the estate grounds to take her back to the main gate. Veronica waved her off, and when they were out of sight, she hit the bottle once again, disregarding the glass.


	16. A Generous Gift

"Thanks for meeting me today," Mordecai said, shifting on his seat in the booth. "I really needed it after this past week."

"Yeah, it's no problem," Evelyn responded. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

"Just stuff."

"Life getting you down, huh?"

"Immensely."

She sighed. "Tell me about it."

The waitress brought the two their drinks and soon left for the kitchen to fill their orders. They turned to one other again and continued their conversation.

"So, it's been a while since I've seen you," he said. "You doing alright?"

Evelyn stuck the straw in her soda and nodded. "Yeah, for the most part."

"Well, what's the minor part?"

She looked at him with a smile. "Same problem just a different type."

"Relationships?" She nodded. "What's up on your end?"

"Nothing much," she leaned back and cupped her hands over her stomach, "it's just I was looking forward to some quiet time for the next few weeks, you know?"

"Heh, no. That's all I've been getting nowadays." He sucked up some of his soda. "Rigby's been hanging out with Eileen a lot since the roller rink—now isn't that weird?"

"Rigby with Eileen? No, I think it's sweet."

"I mean Rigby with a girl, and before me." He scoffed. "I just don't get it. He can get a girl, but I'm still having issues."

Evelyn leaned back over and patted his wing that lay on the counter. "There, there. Don't get yourself down so much."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't trying." He pulled back his wing and picked up his drink. "So, any news on Margaret?"

"No." She drew her arm back as well. "As far as I know she and Lyle are still together and things are going fine."

He sighed and took another drink. "Typical..."

She eyed him. "You okay?"

"Mmm, just same old thing I guess...day after day..." He fiddled with the straw.

"Wanna talk about what's on your mind?"

The blue jay took a moment before he set down the glass and leaned over the table. "Yeah, I've uh...got this, this feeling I'm going in this downward spiral."

"Why's that?"

"I'm getting this premonition I might turn into my boss. I'm losing sleep over it and everything."

She crossed her arms over the table. "Okay, and what makes you think that?" She drank from her glass and crossed her legs under the table.

"Well, the guy's lonely and sad and miserable all the time, and he's been going after a girl who's already taken by someone else...I don't know. I just have those feelings too, and I feel I'll be in my forties and remain the same, never getting with the girl I'm after. It's scaring me..."

Evelyn looked at him with a sad expression. "Well, I'm sure if you just told Margaret how you feel—"

"No, she can't know about this."

"What? Why not?"

"She just can't. Girls are into confidence. I have to maintain that I have it all together."

"But it's hurting you. Trust me, keeping secrets like that won't help you get over them. She needs to know. She's your friend—she wouldn't want you feeling this way."

"Just no, okay—please?" He lowered his voice. "She can't know about this. I don't want her to think I'm some dependant weakling that's just moping and whining about her. As true as it has been the past few weeks, she'll never want to date me if she knew that."

"But, Mordecai—"

"Please, Evelyn, do me a solid and keep it a secret—just between us. Please?"

"A solid? You're serious then..."

"I am. So will you do it...by not doing it?"

"A solid's a solid..."

"Good." He sighed and took a sip of his soda, still feeling a bit upset. "Thanks, Evelyn. I'll owe you one."

She nodded. "Yeah, yeah...anytime, Mordecai..."

The waitress came back out with their orders, and the two switched topics to more pleasant subjects of weather, sports, and music. Halfway through the meal, Benson's number appeared on Evelyn's cell phone again, and just like all the times before, she ignored the call.

* * *

><p>It was Friday evening, and sure enough Ken had told Evelyn the truth. He was back and up to keeping the promise of a dinner date.<p>

She stood in front of the mirror that evening, dawning the new, light pink coat Ken bought for her in Reno, and she had to admit it was a surprisingly generous gift. She buttoned up the gray buttons that matched the fur lining on the cuffs and coattail, and in doing so tried not to eavesdrop on Ken on the phone in the other room. She pulled at the soft cashmere martial and turned to see how it looked from the back, smiling at the small snowflake sewn on the coat by the brand name.

She was so happy he remembered.

_"I like snowflakes," she said the night they met. There were hundreds of them falling down around them in the winter air. "They're some of my favorite things in the whole wide world."_

_The boy she spoke to lit up a cigarette by the fence that divided their separate rehab centers, and he looked over at his new companion, barely making her out in the lamplight._

_"Well you're a snow globe, aren't you, girl? It's kind of obvious."_

_She kept smiling as she knelt in the mounds of fresh snow. "So, what are you doing out here this late?"_

_"No reason." He watched her curiously as she slipped her fragile arm through the chain link fence that kept them apart._

_"My name's Evelyn. I'm nine and a half years old. Do you live here too? I haven't seen you around."_

_"I live at the other one way over there." He nodded to a facility in the distance and took another long drag of the cigarette. "And name's Ken by the way." He fist bumped her palm. "Fifteen in a month."_

"Fifteen."

"Huh?" Evelyn looked back at Ken who appeared in the doorway. "What did you say?"

"Just got off the phone with the manager. In total we made about fifteen-hundred on the tour. Not too bad considering we got kicked off early, eh?"

She smiled and stood on her tiptoes to hug him around the chest. "That's wonderful, Ken. I'm sure you'll get that record deal soon if you keep going at this rate. I'm so proud of you."

He leaned down to kiss the top of her head when the doorbell rang downstairs.

"Can you get that?" he asked, stepping around her to the closet. "I still need to put something nice on."

"Sure."

Evelyn made her way down to the front door, tugging at her coattail with a cheerful smile, but it faded away when she opened the door.

It was Benson.

"Hey." He said, hunched over a bit in his blazer.

She tried to keep a stiff upper lip. "Hi...w-what are you doing here?"

"You haven't been returning my calls, so I just figured—" He attempted to step inside, but Evelyn stopped him.

"No."

"I want to talk to you."

"Well...not here." She looked back up the stairs, and when she made sure it was clear, she stepped outside with him and shut the door behind her.

"Where have you been?" he asked when it was closed. "I've been calling and calling..."

"Benson, look, I really appreciate you letting me use your office to work, but—"

"Tell me what's going on," he demanded. "Why are you acting this weird?" He finally noticed what she was wearing. "And what's with the fancy getup?"

The wind blew, and she pulled at her hat to keep it situated on her head. "It's nothing personal, Benson, but Ken came back early, and we're going on a date tonight, so I don't have the time to talk right now."

Benson bit his lip and was about to turn away when Evelyn grabbed his arm. "But—…but if you want..." She dug in her purse for a notepad; Benson turned to watch. She pulled one out along with a pen and began to write. "I'm going to give you my work schedule so you can stop by to see me if you need to talk." She looked at him, ripping off the page and handing it over. "Just don't come around here anymore without telling me first. Okay? I still want to see you, but my apartment's off limits right now."

"Why?" He took the paper and stuffed it in his blazer. "Is it Ken? Evelyn, if he's hurting you, you need to tell me—"

"What's going on?"

Evelyn swallowed hard upon hearing Ken's voice behind her. She looked up at Benson.

"It's not so black and white..." she whispered to him.

Benson narrowed his gaze on her as she turned back to the man in the doorway.

"Ken!" She smiled. "This is my friend, Benson. He's the manager at the park where I painted my landscapes while you were gone."

"Benson huh?" He stepped down the stairs and shook his hand with a coy smile. "Nice to meet you. Ken Riff, but I'm sure Evelyn's told you all about me."

"Some things." He reluctantly shook his hand.

"Ken, Benson here was just stopping by to tell me that he—"

"Ev," he held his hand up to her, "please, we're talking. I'm sure Mr. Benson here is capable of telling me why he's here." He turned to him. "Right?"

The gumball machine glared him down. "I was just stopping by to tell Evelyn here that I want to commission another painting of the park house to give to my boss for his birthday."

"You had to stop by at this hour of the night to say that? You could have called."

The line was busy, Evelyn mouthed behind him.

Benson looked from her to him. "The line was busy, so I just figured I'd stop by since his birthday's coming up soon, and I wanted to let her know as far in advance as possible."

"Really?"

"Really."

Ken looked at Evelyn who nodded in earnest, cupping her hands together over her purse. He smirked and rubbed her hat around on her head. "Well, good job, Ev, I knew those classes would pay off someday." He turned back to Benson. "She'd love to, buddy, but for right now, we're late for our reservations, so if you don't mind..."

"Not at all," he said through closed teeth. He stepped aside to let the two of them pass, Ken extending an arm around her shoulders as they went. When he bent over to open the car door for her, Evelyn took a moment to glance back at Benson and sadly shake her head.

Benson stood under the spotlight of the street lamp while Ken shut the door behind her and gave him a nasty look before getting in the car himself. It sent chills up his spine as the car started and drove off into the night toward city hall.

The gumball machine huffed and pulled at his coat, making his way back to his own apartment. For some reason, as he walked down the rows of abandoned sidewalks, he could hear his mother's voice when she tried to comfort him about Veronica, telling him, "It's alright son; she wasn't meant for you. There's so many more girls out there; you just have to keep looking. Just don't give up, Benny."

Benson sighed.

I don't know if I have the strength for that, he thought.

* * *

><p>Evelyn leaned toward the window in the passenger seat of the car, letting her mind wander as she looked at all the neon lights zooming past before her eyes. In-between spouts of rock and metal from the radio were kind thoughts of Benson and a heartwarming feeling. She was flattered he went out of her way to see her like that, even if it gave her a heart attack. Still, it was charming, and now she remembered why she liked hanging around him so much. She only wished she could have gotten to spend more time with him before Ken came back. Oh well, she thought. Maybe he'll take me up on the offer and come see me at the rink.<p>

She smiled at the thought.

"Evelyn!" Ken shouted.

His shouting sent shivers down her spine, and she looked over with a panic-stricken face. "Wh-What?"

"About damn time. I've been calling your name five times already."

She adjusted herself on the seat and held onto her purse.

"Well if you wouldn't play your music so damn loud..." She turned down the volume and looked at him. "What is it?"

"I want you to tell me who that guy was."

"What are you talking about? I already told you back there. He's the manager of the park where I painted my landscapes for class. He let me use his office to paint in, so that's how I know him."

"What else have you been doing?"

"Nothing. Why are you acting like this?"

"Because no one stops by someone's apartment like this at this hour to talk about a commission. So spill it."

She sighed. "It's nothing, Ken, he's just a friend of mine. He's been telling me about his problems when I'd paint, and I've been helping him out. You of all people should know about wanting to help people out like that." Although she laced a bit of that with sarcasm.

Ken bit the inside of his cheek and pulled off on the side of the road. Evelyn's heart froze as he cut off the engine and turned to her, cutting the headlights.

"Evelyn, you listen to me. You and I both know you're lying."

"I'm not lying, Ken..."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not—ahh!" He grabbed her wrist.

"Evelyn, goddamn it, you had better tell me the truth right now, or so help me—"

"I am, Ken! I really am helping him with his problems, and he's been trying to talk to me about mine, but I—ahh!" He twisted harder.

"What? Are you out of your mind?"

"Ken!"

"Evelyn, don't you get you're my last chance at doing something right with my life? Do you want me to go to hell? I will be damned if I'll let everything I've worked for with you slide—especially because of some fucking gumball machine you barely know—are you listening to me?"

"Ken let go; you're hurting me."

He forcefully shoved her arm back in her direction, still staring her down. "I mean it, Evelyn. I'm the only one who's looking out for you—would you put that in your brain and make it fucking stay there for once? Christ."

"But he understands me, Ken..." she whined.

"Fucking hell, Ev, are you even listening to yourself right now? No one else in this world is going to understand—or even put up with you—the way I do, and if you think for one goddamn minute anyone else would really, truly accept you after sifting through your records, then shit, you really are a fucking idiot."

"I'm sorry..." she said, cradling her wrist in her hand.

"It's me, Evelyn. Just me, only me, who can help you—do you understand me?"

"Yes..." She sniffed and leaned away from him.

"Good." He sighed and rubbed his hands on his forehead, staring out the windshield and trying to calm himself down. She timidly turned toward him.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered.

"...I'm sorry too," he replied. "Come on, let's...let's just have a nice dinner, and we can talk about this later." He started the car again and pulled back onto the street.


	17. Return the Favor

_A/N: Before I start the chapter, I want to give (yet another) thank you to Olivia who illustrated Evelyn (as well as the scene from chapter 3 where she and Benson meet) on her DeviantArt page. If you haven't seen them yet, check em out by typing in "Regular Show Evelyn" in the search engine and they'll pop up in the results. They're absolutely stunning, and I know she denied the soul of my first-born child, but I'm still insisting it to pay her back for her generosity. Thank you again, and enjoy the update!_

* * *

><p>"I hate this fucking place..." Benson muttered to himself. "Another Saturday night, and again I'm on a pair of fucking roller skates."<p>

"So, like, you here with a kid's party or what?"

Benson looked over at the worker behind the snack bar. "No. Just do me a favor and get me a Jack and Coke, would ya?"

"This isn't a bar, dude. It's a roller rink."

"Then hold the Jack." He glared.

"Benson!"

Benson snapped his head up from his place on the barstool to see Evelyn skate up with a tray of dirty dishes, not too pleased upon seeing him.

"I thought I told you to go home already; what are you still doing here?" She turned to the man behind the bar. "John, I need five sodas, two diets, two waters, hold the lemons."

Her co-worker nodded and took her tray while Benson took hold of her arm to keep her there a bit longer.

"I'm still here because you told me I could come by and talk to you at work."

"Well yeah, but not on a Saturday." She removed his hand and skated around the counter, getting to work filling out an order of cheese nachos. "We're packed to the brim on weekends, and this one especially with the five birthday parties going on."

"Well, I'm not leaving until I can talk to you."

"Benson."

"I'll wait until you get off work if I have to."

"No. Ken's picking me up at the end of my shift, so—"

"Do I look like I care?"

Evelyn sighed and turned to him as she pulled the lever for the cheese. "Benson, honestly, why are you so insistent on this, hmm? What's so important that's going on in your life right now that you can't wait until Monday?"

He swirled a bit on his stool. "Maybe I want to talk about that commission for Maellard."

"Come on, we both know that's not what it's about."

"Or maybe I want to talk about some traumatic childhood experience only someone with a giant glass head like mine could possibly know about and relate to."

"Well, if you ask me, I think that—ow!" She released the lever and sucked at the hot cheese that spilled onto her finger. "Damnit...Look, Benson, now's really not the best time."

He slumped over onto the counter as she took the tray of sodas and skated around the bar again, stopping to look back after she passed him.

"Well? You going?"

He glanced up. "I'm not a good skater. I've been stranded on this stool for three hours."

"Three and a half," John said, moving elsewhere to work.

Evelyn gave him a look of pity before setting the drinks back on the counter and holding out her hands. "Come on, then. I'll help you up."

Like a child reaching for his mother, Benson held out his arms and grabbed onto her neck, afraid he'd slip at any moment on his unstable footing.

Which he did.

Two steps out, Benson completely lost his balance and pulled the snow globe down with him to the linoleum floor. A few kids skated by to laugh while Benson got to his knees and steadied Evelyn who rubbed at her back. "That hurt."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine." She took hold of the stool and pulled herself up, reaching down to Benson again. "Try again, only this time, don't look at your feet okay? Just look at me."

He nodded and took her hands again, this time squeezing them tight as she pulled him up onto his feet. The two stood there a moment while Benson tried his hardest not to look down, focusing instead on the specks of light coming off her fair freckles.

Evelyn felt his firm grip on her fingers and she looked down to see a small trail of blood seeping out of his knee. In a moment of pity, she decided to throw the guy a bone and smile.

"You're really stubborn, you know that?" She turned, still keeping hold of him. "Come on then, let's get you taken care of." She skated off toward the break room while Benson tightly hugged his body to hers, letting her practically carry him the rest of the way there.

"I'm surprised," she said once they got there. "This is the first time I've doctored up someone's knee and not have to ask them to sit still." She paused. "Also the first time someone had blood that smelled like cherries."

"It's my flavor." He leaned back on the bench by the first aid station while he let Evelyn treat his scrape. "Well, that and grape...Do I have to get a kiddie band aid?"

"Nope, you get the big people ones." She smoothed the bandage out around his knee and gave it a soft pat as a finishing touch. "There we go. Good as new."

He smiled. "Thanks, I—"

"Hey, Ev," one of her co-workers said coming into the room, "I know your busy and all right now, but did Ken get back to you about my car yet?"

Benson glared at him.

"No, he's been out of town, so the shop's been closed." She put away the kit. "But I can ask him when it'll be fixed and shoot you a text or something later."

"Cool, that'd really help me out. Alright, I'm checking out. Thanks, Ev." He skated off back out the door and Benson looked to her.

"So...Ken owns a car shop?"

"Yeah, it's a small mechanic place he runs with his band mates. It helps put food on the table."

A coy smile came to his lips. "You know, Evelyn, my car's been having some trouble with the transmission lately. I was wondering, does Ken—"

"Forget it."

"What?"

"I said forget it."

"Why? You didn't even know what I was going to say."

"Just please trust me in that you'd be better off just going somewhere else and not dealing with Ken. Period." She stood back up and stretched. "Now, there. We talked. Think you could go home now, so I can get back to my slave wages?"

He was about to say something in retort but instead bit his tongue and began to remove his skates. "Sure." He had a much better idea.

On the way back to his car, he stopped Evelyn's co-worker before he left and explained how he forgot to ask her what the address was for the mechanic, and how it'd really help him out if he could tell him.

* * *

><p>"Okay, arcade tomorrow night? That sounds good," Rigby said into the phone. "What? No, it's okay; you can hang up first...no really, you can hang up first."<p>

"Ugh, Rigby," Mordecai whined. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Me too, but Eileen won't hang up the phone," the raccoon said from his trampoline. "No, you can hang up first...no, you hang up first...no, you...no, you...no, you...you...you...you..._you hang up the phone_!"

"Rigby!"

"_What_?"

Mordecai stomped over and slammed the phone down on the receiver. "There. She hung up—now go to sleep!"

"Mordecai! Now she'll think I hung up on her! Don't you know anything about chicks?" He gasped. "I have to call her back." He started dialing again.

"What? Ugh! Whatever. I'm going to sleep in Benson's office." He grabbed his pillow and blanket and staggered off down the hall.

"Thanks, that's all I needed, Skips. Bye." Benson hung up the phone just as Mordecai came into the office. The gumball machine looked up and growled.

"Mordecai, what a surprise, sneaking into my office after hours."

"Benson?"

"Yes?"

"Dude, what are you doing here? It's like, 2 in the A.M."

"P.M."

"What?"

"Oh, sorry. A.M. You're right, my bad. Used to working days..." He went back to writing in his record book.

"Wait, are you working?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Because I'm getting ahead in the workload so I can take care of some things tomorrow. Notably firing you for sneaking into my office."

"I wasn't sneaking. I came in here to sleep. Rigby won't shut up."

"Not my problem."

"Benson," he groaned. "Come on, don't fire me, dude. It's a minor infraction—won't happen again."

"Your darn right it won't happen again. Now get out, I have to get back to work." Mordecai turned and put his wing on the door handle when Benson had an epiphany and stopped him. "Wait, wait, Mordecai, hold on a second."

"Ugh. Go, stay, make up your mind already. I'm too tired for this."

"You still technically owe me a solid, don't you?"

"I do?"

"You do. The last solid you tried owing me was introducing me to a girl at the art exhibit, but since I met a girl outside the exhibit and on my own, you still owe me."

"Fine. What do you want?"

Benson motioned for him to sit across from him. When the blue jay sat down, he slid over a business card reading _K.E.G. Automotives_.

"You need a mechanic?"

"A specific mechanic. His name's Ken Riff, and I need you to stall him tomorrow afternoon. I got his work schedule from Skips—he gets off around the same time we do. I need you to stall him by any means necessary for as long as you can, and to call me _immediately_ when he leaves."

"What for?"

"Don't ask questions."

He narrowed his gaze on him. "It's what's-her-name, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Yes. Yes it is."

He sighed. "Alright. Will you not fire me if I do this?"

"I promise not to fire you, even though you technically owe this to me."

Mordecai rolled his eyes as Benson slid over to the file cabinet on the other side of the room. He was about to stand when the phone began to ring.

"Can you get that please? I'm busy."

"Sure." He answered. "Hello?...Oh, hey."

Benson turned. "Who is it?"

"It's for me, don't worry," he responded. "Sure, I can come get you...uh-huh...uh-huh...okay, hold tight, I'll be right there." He hung up.

"What's going on?"

"Friend of mine had her ride bail on her. Can I borrow a golf cart?"

* * *

><p>It was going on 2:30 in the morning, and the deserted street with severe lack of traffic was a complete showcase of that.<p>

"Thanks for the ride, Mordecai," Evelyn said, too exhausted to give him a smile.

"Anytime, Evelyn." He pulled up and parked on the curb. "Are you gonna be okay getting in by yourself?"

"Yeah. I can manage." She stepped out of the golf cart and grabbed her bag and skates as Mordecai shifted back to drive. "Thanks again, I'll see you later."

"See ya."

They waved and Mordecai drove off, leaving Evelyn alone to make the long trek up to her apartment.

Ken was lying on the couch, strumming his guitar when Evelyn stepped through the door and dumped her stuff in the corner. An infomercial played on mute on the T.V as she tossed her keys onto the table and put her hands on her hips. Ken didn't acknowledge her for a good, long while until she cleared her throat toward him. He looked up.

"Oh, hey, Evelyn. What's up?"

"Where were you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were supposed to pick me up at the rink an hour ago."

"Oh! Right. Sorry, Ev. Bloodshed and Manslaughter stopped by to pick up some stuff and we got caught up in talking about the tour. But you made it home okay, right? You're fine."

"Yeah, no thanks to you." She pushed his legs off the couch and fell back onto the cushion, sinking very slowly into the soft leather. Ken smiled and strummed some more on his guitar.

"But," he said quite chipper, "I do have good news."

"What's that? If it's anything stupid, I'm too tired to deal with it right now."

"It's not stupid; you'll love it. I wrote a song to play at the next gig."

"So?"

"So, it's for you." He smiled in her direction. "Want to hear it?"

She looked over and cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "Really? You wrote me a song?"

"A ballad actually. Even better, right? It's not finished yet—just have some verses and a chorus in mind, but it's a work in progress."

Evelyn allowed herself to smile as she rolled over toward him and hugged her knees. "Okay, let's hear it."

He started playing. "I haven't written the beginning yet, but when I do, it'll lead into this." He leaned in closer to sing.

_She comes to me and she says_

_"Kenny, come watch me swing_

_I promise not to go too high_

_Because of what happened last time_

_But you know me_

_How I dream to fly_

_So I'm going to jump_

_And touch the sky_

_And I will always love you_

_Because you're the only one who knows me to_

_Never run out on you"_

"Aww, Ken..."

"Still going."

"Okay."

_So say again..._

_She runs to me and she says_

_"Kenny, come watch me climb_

_I promise not to go too high_

_Because of what happened last time_

_But you know me_

_How I love the trees_

_So I'm going to jump_

_And crunch the leaves._

_And I will always stay with you_

_Because you're the only one who knows me to_

_Never skip out on you."_

_Me too._

"Aww."

He snickered. "Best part here."

"Okay." She nuzzled the cushion.

_She skips to me and she says_

_"Kenny, come watch me smoke_

_I promise not to get too high_

_Because of what happened last time_

"Ken!" She playfully kicked him.

_But you know me_

_How I love to dance_

_Under the influence_

_Even if it was just that once._

She giggled. "You better not play this for people."

_But you know me_

_And how it'd make him sad_

_If Dad saw me there_

_And in—"_

"Ken!" Her smile dropped as she grabbed hold of his arm. "What are doing?"

"What? I'm playing your song."

"You put Papa in there?"

"Well yeah. You were bitching and moaning about him that night you doped up, so I just thought—"

"Are you out of your mind?" She stood up to look down on him. "You can't play that for people!"

"Why not?"

"It's too personal!"

"No it isn't!"

"Yes it is!"

"No, you want personal? This is personal." He strummed a few more aggressive notes.

_Daddy dear, it's Evelyn,_

_I'm writing to see how well you've been_

_Hope you're not getting fucked in jail_

_Oh wait, that's right, you killed yourself_

_Daddy dear—_

"Ken!"

"What?" He glared, still playing.

"What the hell?"

"See? Now my last lyrics don't sound so bad now do they?"

"Why are you being like this? Seriously, Ken, what did I do just now coming in the door that made you act this way?"

"Well, first of all you had an attitude the second you walked in here, and two, you're the ingrate who didn't appreciate the song I wrote for you—but, if you feel like I'm the one who went too far, then I'll be the adult here and say we were both in the wrong."

"Ken..."

He stopped playing and stood up only to toss his guitar back to the couch and start taking off his jacket on the way to their room.

"I'm going to bed now. You coming or what?"

She crossed her arms and turned from him. "In a minute."

He shut the door mid-sentence, and Evelyn took a deep breath before heading into the kitchen to make herself some tea. She hunched over the mug a moment later at the table to watch the steam drift from the cup when a bottle of Ken's whiskey caught her eye. Not caring anymore, she twisted open the top and poured some of it into her drink.


	18. Promise

Mordecai should have known this was going to end badly. The dark clouds that swirled overhead were the perfect warning signs he should have listened to in order to persuade him to turn around and beg Benson to repay his solid another way. But twilight was coming soon, and the streetlamps were just being to burn to life by the time Mordecai pulled up in Benson's car to _K.E.G. Automotives_. He felt unsettled as he stepped out of the drivers seat and approached the garage, occupied that evening by an old car and two pairs of legs that stuck out from beneath it. He heard a few muffled grunts from the two men as he got closer.

"Hand me that wrench would ya?" one of them said. "I got a leak down here I need to fix."

"You don't say. That's what your old lady said to me last night too."

"Hey, knock it off, man, before I strap a knife to my fist and fucking kill you."

"Excuse me?" Mordecai said holding up his wing. "Can one of you guys help me out?"

He heard one of the men set down his tools on the pavement, and he watched as the human slid out from under it, a rather large man in and of himself in a blue suit and covered head to toe in dirt and oil. He sat up on his rolling board and rubbed his hands on a rag, his front pocket showcasing the name Eli in red embroidery.

"Yeah, whatcha need?"

"Uhh, my transmission's a little faulty, so I was wondering if someone could take a look at it." He paused. "Preferably from a guy named Ken?"

"You want Ken?" he said. "Yeah, just go inside there; he should be behind the counter." He lied back down on the board and rolled underneath the car once more. "He's the only one in there, so can't miss him."

"Cool. Thanks."

The thunder rolled as the blue jay made his way inside the shop.

* * *

><p>Evelyn folded another of Ken's shirts and set it in the laundry basket by the ironing board, checking the clock over the television once again that night. It was 6:30. Ken would be home soon.<p>

She reached into the other basket on the floor and spread out the last of his dress shirts, hoping to get it done quickly so she could start dinner by the time he got there. She pressed the iron to the fabric and turned up the volume of the small, antique radio that sat on the edge of the board, soaking up the last few moments of peace until her significant other returned home. She sneered at the thought, but felt bad when she did.

"And now for something I know you folks at home will enjoy and maybe hopefully sing along to if you remember it from back on Broadway," said the old-timey announcer. "Mr. conductor, if you please."

Evelyn rubbed out the wrinkles of the shirt and listened keenly as a familiar tune from her past faded into the airwaves. She couldn't help but smile fondly at the old _Gypsy_ song, and she even hummed along to it feeling quite uplifted with its nostalgic lyrics.

_Let me entertain you,_

_Let me make you smile._

_Let me do a few tricks,_

_Some old and then some new tricks,_

_I'm very versatile._

_And if you're real good,_

_I'll make you feel good,_

_I want your spirits to climb._

She swayed her hips to the rhythm of the music and even did a few side steps and kicks while she ironed, wondering if she could still perform the same dance routine she'd made up for it back when she was a kid. Her mom always enjoyed her creative spirit, as did her dad whenever he spent time with her. She could clearly see the three of them together in her old bedroom back in the country while they watched her do her ballets, waltzes, and all sorts of dances she made up to go along with the music her father allowed her to have. And every time she danced, her dad would applaud and tell her, "Evelyn, baby, you're going to be Papa's little star when you grow up." And back then, she truly believed she would.

Without really thinking about it, she began to sing and dance along with the song, now able to match its seductive undertones with her older age and more matured body. She swayed her hips and did a few leg and arm stretches, using the board for balance while she continued her chores as she danced. She sang a bit louder as she twirled around the iron's cord.

_And if you're real good,_

_I'll make you feel good,_

_I want your spirits to climb._

_Let me entertain you,_

_And we'll have a real good time—_

There was a knock at the door.

Evelyn quickly dropped the cord and stood upright on her feet, staring at the door a bit embarrassed with herself for getting so carried away. Frowning a bit, she shut off the radio and unplugged the iron as she made her way over to look through the peephole.

It was Benson.

* * *

><p>There was something about this man that bothered Mordecai, but he couldn't quite put his wing on it.<p>

"Transmission looks fine to me," Ken said. "Might need a check up in a few months, but she seems to be running fine right now."

"Oh. Are you sure you looked at the right parts? I could have sworn it was acting a little funky."

"I'm sure." He tossed a rag over his shoulder and headed back into the shop where the other two were packing up their kits. "We're closing up right now though, so if she still gives you some problems later this week, you can bring her back in, and we'll take a look at it."

Mordecai followed him inside, a bit panicked but still trying to stay calm. "Closing up now, huh? You sure?"

"We always close at 6:30 on Sunday," Eli said behind the counter. "We got a sign out there—can't you read?"

"Well yeah, but I mean...why 6:30, you know? Why not 7 or even 8?"

"Who are you supposed to be, the Time Fairy?" the third one, whose name was Greg, joked.

"It's just a curiosity."

Ken threw a coat on over his uniform and kicked his tool kit below the counter. "Alright, guys, I'm out. See you in the A.M."

He began making his way to the exit but Mordecai stepped in front of him.

"You're coming back in the morning too?"

"That's what keeps a business running, kid. Being open." He was getting a little irritated.

"But on a Monday? Who works on a Monday?"

"We do." He tried stepping around him, but Mordecai blocked him.

"Well you must have some ideas on how to waste time on a Monday other than work."

"It ain't wasting time if it's work, bird," said Greg.

"Well to some, work is wasting time. Like my job being a groundskeeper. You know the park in the center of town? Total waste of time trying to keep that place up when kids just come in and ruin all your hard work, know what I'm saying?"

Ken eyed him. "Park in the center of town huh? And you're a groundskeeper there?"

"Yep."

The two behind the counter gave one another strange looks as Ken crossed his arms and smirked down at the blue jay.

"So, you work for that gumball machine, don't you?"

He felt uneasy again. "I know of a gumball machine, but uh..."

"Well then, you must have run into my girlfriend a few times the past couple weeks. I mean, if you're working at the park and all."

"Girlfriend? Uh..."

"Evelyn Wimberley?"

The name was like a bullet to his brain.

"Eve-_Evelyn_?" Mordecai repeated, legitimately with shock.

Holy shit, Benson's in love with _Evelyn_? he thought. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

"Hmm, sounds like you know her."

"Huh?"

Ken nodded to Eli who walked over to shut and lock the shop door. Mordecai felt a sudden chill seep up his spine as Ken took an intimidating step toward him and put a strong hand on his shoulder.

"So, tell me again, bird, uh, what's the reason you're doing here again...?"

Greg pulled out a lead pipe.

* * *

><p>"I thought I told you my apartment was off limits," Evelyn said through the crack in the door.<p>

"I know what you said," Benson responded, "but don't worry about it—everything's cool—and I won't take long. I promise."

Evelyn sighed as she shut the door and removed the chain, opening it once again to allow the gumball machine to come inside. He stepped around her and took a seat on the couch, waiting for her as she shut the door again and joined him soon after.

"This really needs to be quick, Benson," she said with arms crossed. "Ken's going to be home soon, and I haven't started dinner yet."

He nodded and gave her a serious look. "So...how are things with Ken?"

"Is he why you're here?"

"Just answer me, please."

She sighed and looked away. "They're good."

"Just good?"

"Yeah...well...he's been in a kind of sour mood lately since coming back off the tour, but don't worry about it. He'll be fine when he gets readjusted."

Benson scooted closer. "Listen, I care about you, Evelyn."

"Well that's sweet of you to say."

"And I really wish you'd tell me if something's going on. You helped me out this past month more than you know, so please, let me do the same for you."

Evelyn rolled her lips and shook her head, refusing to make eye contact with him. "Listen, Benson, Ken and I just have a complicated history together, and our relationship is...interesting to say the least."

"That doesn't make it a healthy one, Evelyn. You and I both know that."

She scoffed. "You know nothing of my health..."

"Then let me."

It was getting harder to avoid him. She uncrossed her arms and grabbed her knees. "Look, it's not that simple, Benson. I want to talk to you about some things—I've always wanted to talk to other people about certain things—but it's just very, very hard to do."

"That's what I came here to say." He gazed down at her knees and took one of her hands in his for emphasis. "I've tried saying this since last night..."

"Okay..." She looked over at his hands holding hers and she couldn't quite hide the blush that began fogging up her cheeks. "What is it you want to say?" she said softly.

He leaned in. "I think we should meet in secret."

"Meet in secret?" She broke and stared up at him. "Like, secret-secret?"

"Yes," he smiled, "it'll be perfect."

"But how?"

"I don't know just yet, but you trust me, Evelyn. I'll find a way to do it."

She tried to force out a laugh, hoping to convince herself this was all just a silly joke. "No, no, this, this is impossible, Benson."

"How is it impossible?"

"It just is; this won't ever work."

"But you miss seeing me right?"

"What? Of course I do, but—"

"Then trust me."

She looked him in the eye a bit longer before she sighed and stared at the floor. "I just don't know...this whole thing's a bit more complicated that I think you know." She looked back at him, glaring. "And didn't you tell me once upon a time that you didn't like being an instigator in things that weren't your business?"

"You getting abused is my business."

She pushed away from him, offended. "Why of all the damn nerve..." She stood.

"Stop." He stood alongside her and grabbed hold of her shoulders, forcing her to turn and look at him. "Please, Evelyn, just listen to me. Whether you think something bad is happening or not, I know there is, and I need you to know that no matter how lost or scared you feel, you have someone out there looking after you, and it's me. Even if things go really really bad for you, I'll be right there to take care of you. Okay?"

She tried looking away from him but couldn't help looking deep into his eyes whenever he said that.

"Really?" she said, her voice growing more somber. "You really mean that?"

"Yes." He paused a moment to pull her closer toward him for a soft embrace. He felt her become stiff at first, but the longer he stood there with her in his arms like that, the more she melted into him and eventually hugged him back. He looked down at her after another moment and whispered, "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay...right now..." Her voice was hoarse as she took in a deep, shaking breath. "This just feels good...really, really good..."

He rubbed her back. "I promise, as soon as I get an idea, I'll find a way to let you know, and we can go from there. I don't want you feeling lost or hurt anymore. Not when you made me stop feeling that way a long time ago."

She pulled away from him, and Benson couldn't tell if he saw a tear in her eye or just one of her flakes reflecting in the light. Either way, he smiled back and rubbed a thumb on her cheek in reassurance. "I'll figure something out, okay, Evelyn? I promise."

Evelyn brought her hands up to her chest, rubbing her fingers timidly while trying to find words to say to him, but her thoughts were cut short when the door burst open and Ken emerged from the hallway of the building, red-faced and posed in a fighting stance at the ready.

The two of them barely had time to push away from one another before Ken saw them together out of the corner of his eye and immediately stormed over, grabbing Benson by the collar of his coat and throwing him hard up against a wall.

"You son of a bitch—I knew it!" he screamed.

"Ken!" Evelyn shouted, grabbing hold of his arm. "Ken, stop it!"

"Stay out of this!" He shoved her as far back as he could, where she eventually stumbled and tripped over the laundry basket of clean clothes, spilling them onto the floor around her. She sat up just in time to see Ken grab Benson up by the hood of his coat and drag him outside, slamming the door behind them as they went, making sure Evelyn wouldn't follow.

Outside, Benson was still delirious from when his head hit the wall, and it didn't help his senses whatsoever when Ken began to continuously punch him in the face outside the building before tossing him in a trash heap in the side alley. The gumball machine groaned and held his head while Ken knocked him down again and began to viciously kick at every inch of his body, grunting with each one. After a few more swift blows to his torso, Ken huffed and spit at the ground beside him, pointing a finger down at him in the most threatening way he could.

"That was pretty fucking sneaky trying to send that blue jay to stall me at the shop." He spit again. "You listen, and you listen good. If I _ever_ see you, or that fucking bird for that matter, anywhere near Evelyn again, so help me God, you will fucking regret the day you ever fucking met her."

Benson coughed up a few gumballs into the trash and sat up, trying to compose himself as Ken kicked him once more in the stomach before turning to head back inside. Benson growled and used a drainage pipe for balance as he weakly stood up, turned red, and shouted after him, "I swear to God, Ken, if you touch her—if you fucking touch her—I will kill you where you stand!"

The human slammed the door behind without another word to Benson, leaving the gumball machine broken and alone in the cold autumn air.

* * *

><p>Evelyn sat at the table fidgeting uncontrollably, not knowing what else she could do at that point. Both her heart and mind were jumping and racing to thirty different places all at once as she tried concentrating on an orange she held to help control her stability. She knew letting Benson in was a bad idea. She should have just told him to go home. Oh God, what had she done by letting him inside?<p>

She nearly jumped a foot in the air when the apartment door swung open again, and she continued to stare at the orange as Ken came storming in, slamming the door behind him and kicking over side tables and baskets from the living room—completely tearing apart the ironing board in the process. She stared at the fruit with tears in her eyes, too afraid to make eye contact when she heard him make his way into the kitchen, his boots heavy and intimidating against the tile before her.

He was there; she could see him out the top corner of her eye. He stood directly across from her, bent over with his hands fiercely gripping the edges of the table. The thickening silence was too much for her to bear as she shivered a bit more in her seat. She wished he'd just yell at her and get it over with—not able to take it when he was quiet like this—that silent storm.

Gathering up as much courage as she could muster, she timidly lifted her head to look at him, and at the slightest hint of movement from her, Ken threw the table across the room, letting it smash against the wall and break the plates that fell off from their shelves. Evelyn shuddered and curled up on her chair, holding onto that orange for dear life as Ken panted out the rest of his aggression and tried calming himself down before slowly filling in the gap between them.

"Ken." Her voice was shaky, almost inaudible, but fully desperate. "Ken, I wasn't doing anything, I—"

She didn't have time to finish her sentence before Ken sighed and fell to his knees in front of her, hugging her tight around her torso. She watched in complete shock, her heart frozen over, as he pulled her off the chair and onto the floor, holding her in his lap while he pressed his cheek against the cool glass of her head. He rocked with her there, and she shivered in both fear and confusion, feeling buried against his chest and arms.

"Evelyn."

His voice was soft, possibly the quietest she'd ever heard it, and it confused her even more. She gulped, full on shaking now.

"Ken..."

"Please," he said. "Don't do this to me..."

She took a moment to steady herself and lowered her voice to match his. "Do what, Ken?" She sniffed. "I'm not doing anything..."

"I can't lose you, Evelyn." He paused. "I can't."

"You're not losing me. You never were losing me."

"Evelyn," he rubbed her head as he rocked with her some more, "Evelyn please, I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I didn't mean to yell, or hurt you the way I have, or anything. Just please, Evelyn, don't do this to me. Don't leave me—please don't leave me."

"Ken..." She nudged away from him to look him in the eye, his projected desperation both real and sincere. A lump formed in her throat as she mustered up the courage to get on her knees and hug him around the neck, pressing his head to her chest as she too began to rock him in her arms.

"I won't leave you, Ken." She combed her fingers through his hair and wept. "I promise I won't."


	19. First Lesson

It had almost been a full week since Benson came by the apartment, and as Evelyn slumped over her chai latte that evening at the coffee shop, she couldn't help but wonder if it was perhaps for the best. The way Ken acted that night did something to her, something she couldn't place, and while Margaret cleaned up the counter on the other side of the store, she took another sip from her cup, more than feeling just a little depressed. She was depressed for Ken, depressed for Benson, but mostly depressed for this situation she had gotten herself into. She really had been looking forward to seeing more of Benson, but now that seemed so far-gone compared to what reality was like now. Ken was more attentive to her schedule now, and God knows what happened to Benson...She sighed and downed another gulp.

"Hey, sweetie, how're you holding up?" Margaret asked upon on her return.

"Just a bit pitiful..."

"Mmm need another refill?"

"No, I'm fine." The snow globe looked around the empty store and tilted her mug around on its rim. "You guys are closing soon anyway, so I'll be fine with what I have..." She sighed again. "I'm _always_ fine with what I have..."

"Mmm…sensing some hostility there..." She gave her friend a kind smile and a pat on the back. "Well, we don't close for ten more minutes, so I don't have a problem making another one if you want it..."

Evelyn glanced up at her friend, her face still radiating the lowness she felt, but seeing the robin show her genuine kindness like that was one of her life's smallest treasures. So she bit the bullet and gave her a smile in return. "Okay..." She handed her the cup.

As soon as Margaret took her mug, the bell jingled over the door, and the two girls looked up to see a familiar face make his way into the establishment—his right leg wrapped in bandages and his left wing supporting a crutch. Evelyn gasped. "Mordecai." She stood and walked over with Margaret to meet him at the door. "Oh my God, Mordecai, what happened?"

The blue jay took a step back from her when she approached, practically shoving his crutch at her like a sword. "Oh, Evelyn, hey...didn't know you'd be here..."

"I have a new client I'm going to give skating lessons to in about an hour, so I thought I'd come by for a short visit—but, Mordecai, what happened?"

"Yeah, Rigby told me you got hurt last week, but he wouldn't tell me what for," Margaret interjected. "Gosh, I didn't know it was this bad—"

"No, no, it's cool, it's cool..." He held up his good wing and sat down at a chair, hoping a certain one of the two would keep her distance from him. "It wasn't anything serious—just a few fractures, but I'm okay."

"So what happened? Did you fall down the stairs?"

"Uh—yeah—you're right. Fell down the stairs. I'd just gotten out of the shower, and you know how slippery those stairs can be..."

"You poor thing." Margaret sat beside him and lifted his leg onto her lap. "Here, try to keep it elevated, and it might heal faster."

"Isn't that only for swollen ankles?" he asked.

"I don't know. Couldn't hurt to try, right?" She rubbed his bandages, forgetting Evelyn's mug on the table.

"Right..." Mordecai said. "Couldn't hurt to try..."

Evelyn awkwardly stepped over. "Hey Mordecai, if you need some—"

"No thanks, Evelyn, I'm set."

His tone was ice cold. Evelyn hesitated.

"But you didn't even know what I was—"

"No, mhm, it's okay—I'm good."

"Oh..." she trailed off and took a step back, rubbing her arm. "Okay then..."

Margaret applied a little bit of pressure to his ankle. "There, how does that feel?"

"Ah—ah...careful, careful."

Evelyn stepped up again. "You know, a good way to—"

"No, Evelyn, I'm fine."

The snow globe bit her tongue and stepped back again, staring over at her empty cup on the table. She picked it up and turned to Margaret.

"Hey Margaret, is it okay if I—"

"Ouch! Mordecai, did you just pinch me?" Margaret giggled.

"Maybe." He gave her a sly smile.

"Well stop it, or I won't be nice to you anymore." She went back to rubbing his leg, her smile still there while Evelyn drummed her fingers on the cup.

"Right...um...so, Margaret, is it okay if I—"

"So, Margaret, how's life been going?" Mordecai asked, leaning back in his chair. "I haven't seen you in a while, since, you know...hospital and all."

"Oh it's been so crazy. Lyle moved in last week, but he's already making a total mess of the place. And this one girl, in 42D, is totally making the ogles at him, and he's buying into it!"

"What? No."

"Yes! I'm starting to wonder if he's being serious about this relationship or not."

"Well, Margaret, have you talked to him about—"

"Hold on a second, _Evelyn_." Mordecai sat up and rubbed a wing on her shoulder. "Margaret, listen, if you need someone to talk to about this, you know you can always talk to me right?"

"I know, I know, you've been such a good friend, Mordecai. Thanks for always being there for me and stuff. I just can't believe all this rotten luck I've been having with guys."

"Maybe we should go back to the amusement park one day and just let you get your stress out. We still need to break the tie at the water balloon stand anyway, right?"

"Oh yeah," she laughed, "that's right—I still need to beat you by three points so you can win me that bear."

"You know if you want the bears they sell there, I know a guy who can—"

"I will win that bear for you fair and square because I'm your friend, and that's what friends do," Mordecai said.

"Aww, come here, you." She leaned over and gave him a hug that Mordecai gladly accepted. While they embraced he glared at Evelyn who stood a few feet away and tilted his head to the door. Biting her lip, she set the empty cup back down on the table and quickly grabbed her duffle bag from the floor, feeling like she was about to cry by the time she made it outside.

* * *

><p>Her lonesome walk to the rink that night felt more like a parade she didn't want to go to. It was as if someone gave her a front row view to witness every happy couple in the city getting their love fest on. She passed young teenagers with their first girl and boyfriends, old grandparents sharing ice creams on benches, new parents with their baby strollers, and every other kind of couple combination in between. She cupped her hands together and tried not to look at them, but it was hard to do. Some were so in love they didn't say a word, letting their subtle body language do the speaking for them. Others giggled at inside jokes, and others were too busy kissing and holding one another to keep up any kind of conversation. And amidst all of them all was Evelyn, a snow globe surrounded by so many people, yet felt so alone in the grand scheme of things. She forced herself not to cry anymore that night and pressed herself forward, her only wish being to have her true love there with her too.<p>

The rink itself was deserted when she arrived, closed at ten o'clock on the dot every weekday night without fail, and just as always the streetlamps in the parking lot were either dead or dying. Only a few bothered to work, one of which was luckily strung up beside the side entrance where she instructed her new client to meet her. Squinting her eyes upon her approach, she could barely make out an outline of someone, but couldn't see who it was until she got closer. With only a few yards separating them, she soon saw him clearly, standing there by the dumpster with his fists in his coat pockets, hunched over in an attempt to keep himself warm. Benson.

She slowed down a bit in shock when she recognized him, but then quickly upped her pace when he glanced over and made eye contact. His smile matched her own by the time she got there, and she threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace as they stood there together in the cold.

"Oh, Benson. Benson, thank God, I haven't heard from you since the other night; I was so worried—are you okay? He didn't hurt you too bad, did he?" she said all in one breath. She panted slightly as she pulled away from him to look him over, placing one of her pink-gloved hands on his cheek to feel him. "My God, you're freezing..."

"Yeah, I've been w-waiting," he said, crossing his arms once more in cold. "C-can we go inside now? I'm sick of looking at my breath—"

"Wait, wait, you're my new client?" she asked, completely disregarding his request. "Are you serious? It's you?"

"I told you I'd find a way to meet in secret..."

Her lack of a smile made him nervous.

"Oh, oh, Benson, this is really, very sweet—and a really smart idea too; I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner—but I'm not sure us meeting here like this is the greatest idea in the world—even though I just said it was a good one two seconds ago—"

"Evelyn," he pressed his hand to her mouth, "Please, I'm freezing. Have mercy on me and open the door?"

"Oh, yes, sorry!" She fumbled for the keys in her coat pocket and let him inside as soon as she turned the lock and pushed it open. "Oh...I would have been here sooner if I knew it was you, but I decided to get here by walking instead. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." He rubbed his hands together and stared over at her as she shut the door and turned on the work lights. "You walked here all by yourself? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just needed some time to think, and walking always does that for me."

Benson followed her to the counter where she cranked up the heating system while removing her coat and boots on the bench by the shoe rack. He followed her lead and sat down, removing his own shoes as well.

"What all did you think about?" he asked.

"Things...lots of things..." She looked over at him, concerned. "Wait, what are you doing?"

He looked at her. "I'm...taking off my shoes so I can put on skates...Isn't that what you're doing—what we're doing?"

"No, no, I took mine off because I think I got some sand in them from earlier." she patted the bottoms and a few grains fell to the floor. "Ah, knew it."

"But your coat?"

"It'll get warm in here when the heater heat's up."

"So then what are we doing here if we're not skating?"

She stopped patting her second boot and stared at it in her hands while she searched her head for words. "It's not that I don't want to show you how..."

"Then what is i—Ken." He tossed his hand up in the air. Like he really needed to think about that one.

She chuckled at his small outburst and turned toward him, still holding the boot in her lap. "Well...yeah, but there's a bunch of other stuff too."

"Well you sound awful cheery about that."

She snickered again. "But you said it so funny..." She nudged him with her foot. "You're funny..."

Normally he'd smile at this, but his concernment over her wellbeing was a bit overbearing to allow that to happen. "I haven't seen you since we talked at your apartment. Ken didn't do anything to you did he?"

"No, he just told me he loved me and that he didn't hurt you at all—but I didn't believe that—and then he went to bed. I wanted to stay up and drink some tea and maybe go outside to see if you were around, but he made me go to bed with him to make sure I wouldn't leave."

"Ass..." He felt his rage bubbling. Evelyn noticed and grabbed hold of his arm.

"Oh, no, please, don't take what I said the wrong way. It's like I told you before—he's a jealous type—he doesn't want anyone "stealing me away from him" as he puts it. He can get pretty aggressive, which is why I don't think us doing this is such a good idea—you saw what he did!"

"I don't care what he did. Does he know you're here?"

"Yes, he does, but he knows it's work related, so he wouldn't come here. He thinks you're another teenage girl who wants to learn how to roller-skate."

"Then what's the issue?"

She bit her lip and let go of his arm, scooting further away from him as she did. "A few things. I'm not really in a good mood right now, and I just don't want him finding out about this..."

"That's why this will only be between us—no one else has to know." He paused. "Please?"

She mulled around with the idea in her head while she stared at the empty rink before them. Benson kept his gaze on her, and finally the snow globe let out a heavy sigh, setting her boot down and replacing it with a skate she pulled from her bag. The gumball machine perked up.

"Well...if you won't tell, then I won't..."

* * *

><p>"Benson."<p>

"No."

"Benson."

"I said no."

"Benson, how are you going to learn to skate if you won't come away from the wall?"

He refused to let go of the post, his legs already sidesplitting on his skates. "Well why are you in the center of the rink when your student's a beginner?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes and glared, holding her arms out. "Just come skate to me. Take baby steps—remember what I taught you—the one, two, three, one, two, three."

"I'm going to fall."

"Benson, I teach twelve year olds who aren't this scared."

"Normal twelve year olds aren't scared of falling and having their heads shatter in a million pieces." He looked at her. "Can't we just call it a night and hang out at the snack bar?"

"I get paid on your progression, so come on." She held her arms out again. "I learned to skate just fine, and my head's not in a million pieces..." She trailed off.

Benson noticed and grew concerned. "H-Hey...you alright?"

Evelyn shook her head, trying to stay focused. "Yeah, yeah, fine, fine, it's just late...Come on though, we're not leaving until you make it out here, so let's go."

Benson shuddered and honestly made the attempt, but he was still too afraid to let go of the rail just yet. Evelyn sighed and began to skate in large circles around the rink. "Again!" she called, "this is how you do it. Go one, two, three, one, two, three...swish, swish, swish."

Benson followed her with his gaze and inhaled deeply, shoving himself from the wall with his eyes closed, just hoping he still had his balance after doing so. He felt himself moving, slowly but surely, and when he felt himself ease to a stop, he opened his eyes and peeked over, noticing he made it at least a foot from the rail. He smiled wide. "I did it...I did it! Hey Evelyn, I—oof!"

Evelyn, not paying attention to where she was going herself, slammed right into him, and the two went gliding together across the rink, holding onto one another for dear life and having mini spasm attacks—Benson afraid he would fall, and Evelyn just shocked Benson actually broke away from the wall to begin with. After a moment of trying to get his bearings, the gumball machine gave up trying to stay balanced and fell to his knees, grabbing his companion around her hips and closing his eyes to wait for it all to stop. When it finally did, and he felt Evelyn ease herself to a standing position, he opened his eyes and looked around the rink, only to notice they were now together in the center. He gulped and glanced up at her.

Her hands were on her waist with a smirk on her lips.

"Well...you made it to the center. Guess we can go home now." She helped him stand upright. "Come on, I can take you back in if you need me to."

"Wait." He grabbed hold of her arms. "No, not yet."

"What? Benson, come on, it's late. I know you're scared but—"

"No...it's not that..."

She looked at him, feeling butterflies in her stomach. Somehow, she had a feeling of what he was trying to say to her, and it didn't help her nerves when he pulled her in closer, the two of them soon touching like they were that night at her apartment. She blushed, feeling warm all over, and when he put his arm around her, it brought her back to everything. Ken, Mordecai and Margaret, the couples she saw on her way there, her thoughts of her Papa, her thoughts of her performance piece, her thoughts of just everything came crashing down on her at once. "Benson..." she practically cried.

"What is it?" he said softly, petting her back. "You know you can tell me anything..."

She sniffed, feeling the teardrops breaking their way out as she rubbed her head on his shoulder. "Nothing." She gasped back a few sobs. "I'm just really...really glad that you broke away from the wall..."

He smiled sadly when he heard her start sobbing, and he held her there as tight as he could for another half hour—out of both love and fear that if he didn't, he really would lose his balance and fall.

But either way, he held her.


	20. Because of a Boy

The next month seemed to drift by in its own blur of tranquility.

Benson didn't come by Evelyn's apartment anymore, which meant Ken was happy, and Evelyn still kept up her normal routines of work and art, quite pleased with herself over holding one of the best kept secrets of her life. Three nights a week she and Benson met in secret, and in those first two weeks, Benson made quite the improvement on his skating skills. Hand in hand, she'd guide him in large loops around the rink, going slow and steady at first before he was able to break away from her and keep going all on his own. It didn't take long before they competed in miniature races with one another yet still maintaining caution when Benson felt his balance wavering. When that would happen, Evelyn would glide over and take his hand to guide him back to a table, and there they would break for a small snack and conversation before picking up the lesson all over again.

Evelyn was proud of his progress, and so was he.

"Here you go," Evelyn said one afternoon as she dropped a paper bag on Ken's lap, "material proof that I am brilliant in the form of a sandwich."

The man eyed it curiously before burning out his cigarette in the ash tray while Eli and Greg watched from the other side of the room. He sat up on the armchair, holding the bag with one hand while the other pulled Evelyn down onto his lap. With a smile, he kissed her. "Well aren't you just the sweetest thing?"

Evelyn set down her other shopping bags by the chair and leaned into him, tugging lovingly at his collar as she kissed him back. "You don't have to thank me, Ken, thank that little girl who's doing so well at her lessons that my boss decided to give me a raise."

"Well this is awfully nice of you, Ev..."

"Then let's leave it at that," she whispered seductively. She pecked him again on the lips before stepping away and picking up the rest of her bags. "I won't be home until late—I have to go to my therapy session with Veronica and after that it's more lessons, so don't wait up."

"Okay..." he called, but the sound of a shutting bedroom door was all he needed to know that all conversation was over. He looked back at his friends and gestured to the room. "You see that?"

"Yeah. She finally giving you some?" Greg asked.

"No, come on guys, you know Evelyn won't let me touch her like that. Why do you think she's so cool with me getting hookers all the damn time?"

"Well that right there sure looked like touching to me," Eli noted.

"I know..." He picked up his beer bottle that rested on the coffee table. "Wonder what's got into her..."

And while Eli and Greg shrugged, going back to their smoking and conversations of music, Evelyn twirled in front of the closet mirror, wondering which of her new nighttime silks would look best for someone going roller skating. She went with burgundy, which coincidently happened to be the same color as Veronica's couch the mistress posed on that afternoon during their session. Evelyn had set up her easel in the library of the estate where she was instructed to paint Veronica in the nude in the duration of their time together as per request of the head of house herself.

The snow globe concentrated on her swatches as she swiped more gentle strokes along her canvas, hardly listening to Veronica when she spoke.

"And that was the last conversation I had with Niles," she reminisced from her position. "That I was some controlling monster who tried but failed to cage his free spirit...the absolute nonsense of it all—I was not controlling. I was protective—there's quite a difference I assure you...Miss Wimberley?"

At the mention of her name she looked up. "Ma'am?"

"Do you think that?"

"Think what, ma'am?"

She sighed. "Darling, I understand you're distracted with your art, but do please try to pay attention to my musings. You're not just here for decoration—and gracious me, what are you so smiley about?"

Evelyn didn't even know she was smiling, but she bit her lip and tried to conceal it as she concentrated on her painting. "Oh, no reason..." She couldn't hold it in any longer and snorted. "But it might be a boy..."

"A boy?"

She nodded and turned to her on her stool. "Oh...Oh, Miss Veronica, I wish you could meet him. He's so wonderful. I've never known someone like him before. It's like breathing air for the first time."

"You're romanticizing romance, dear—there's thousands of men all over the city. I'm sure you've been around someone like him bef—"

"Oh no, ma'am, there's no one like him anywhere at all I don't think. Any man I've ever known has never been this sweet or this kind to me."

"Men are never kind nor sweet."

"He's attentive—that's the word I'm looking for." She sighed and went back to her painting. "Oh, Miss V, he's the type of guy I think people think about when they write love songs. I've never met someone who makes me want to change everything I've had planned for my life."

"Oh, honey, don't ever change your future for a man. It leads to nothing but misery—trust me." She took a sip of brandy.

"But this is different. I don't want to say I love him or anything, but if I ever had that feeling about someone else, well, I'm sure glad it's him..."

"Well I'm happy in your quest of finding romance, darling, but remember why you're here. Stop smiling, so I can wallow in my pity and have you listen if you wouldn't mind."

"Yes ma'am." She scooted a bit more behind her canvas so Veronica couldn't see the smile that still played on her lips. She went back to her painting.

"That's better...now, what was I saying?" Veronica asked herself. "Oh yes—I was protective of Niles. Oh, you should've seen the kind of low-life debauchery going on in the world when he was born."

"Mhm."

"This was a long time ago, probably when you were still a baby yourself, but there was a time when they arrested a man on the other side of the country who—get this—had a sex trafficking brothel right in the middle of a damn wheat field. Let me tell you something, this man they caught was sick—he wasn't just involved with his own, human kind—oh no—he would kidnap children—babies even—of people like us and use them as objects for these...these...sexual fetish rings."

Veronica sneered.

"Gumball machines, lamps, thermostats, even snow globes like yourself, darling, he would take these poor girls from their parents and lock them into the bedrooms of this house with no one to talk to but—oh, get this: he would put in the room with them an inanimate object of their likeness and claim it was the child's mother so they'd think this kind of life was normal, and just so the child could have someone to talk to whenever he wasn't in there with them or some other damn pedophile. I couldn't even imagine—thinking a regular, non-living gumball machine was my mother—the thought of it! And he would charge these men who came in to do whatever it is they damn well pleased with them—men who had sexual fetishes for our kind like we weren't living things at all—just objects to be used." She scoffed and swirled her brandy around in her glass. "He's dead now, thank God, but still...when they caught him, damn bastard had the nerve to have those girls brainwashed into thinking he was their father, and they were all sent to rehabilitation centers, doing who knows what now. Well, I wasn't about to let my son get into any danger like that, so yes, of course I kept a close eye on him—but it was for his protection, am I right, dear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good, I knew I was in the right...I'm glad someone else agrees with me for a change." She drank more from her glass and sighed, leaning back on her pillow. "I just wish he did..."

Evelyn nodded, but she still wasn't listening. She was too busy thinking about the night that lied ahead as she painted a small portrait of Benson on a note card she had pinned to the corner of her canvas.

* * *

><p>Mordecai was starting to get annoyed with Benson's humming. Ever since the night he repaid his solid, he felt more intolerant of his boss. It was gracious that Benson had him promoted to honorary records keeper during the time his fractures needed healing, but he still wasn't happy about being injured like that in the first place. He was still unable to do any hard labor, so he was stuck in Benson's office with him, filing away records while his boss filled out his own paperwork as happy as a lark. Mordecai twitched.<p>

"Benson."

"Hmm mm, mm, yeah?"

"Dude, enough."

"Enough what?"

"You're humming."

"Oh, sorry, Mordecai. I'm just really happy. You wouldn't believe how great things are going with this girl."

"Yeah, I bet they're going just fantastic," he said coldly through gritted teeth.

Benson looked up at him from across the desk. "What's going on with you? What's with the anger? I thought you wanted me to be happy with someone."

"Not when that someone has a boyfriend who assaults your employee just for you talking to her. I couldn't even get the cops to listen to me because they made some B.S. excuse I was trying to rob them after hours. Just do us both a favor and end it."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"No, I won't."

"Benson, come on, you don't see anything wrong with this picture? She's in a relationship with a goddamn psychopath. Your continuation of seeing her on the side like this is nothing but a giant game of Russian roulette that you've now dragged me into."

"You're not involved in anything—this is strictly between me and her."

"Uh, remember what I said to you that night at the hospital? That Ken dude is going to kill both of us if we're seen with her. I keep getting these night terrors that I'm getting followed by one of them, and E—that girl—won't stop hanging around me and talking to me because she thinks we have this tight knit friendship...thing." It was hard to find words in his anger. "I already have my own anxieties, Benson. I don't need you bringing any more into my life, thank you."

"You don't even know her, so I don't know why you're so bent out of shape over this." He reclined in his seat. "Nothing is going to happen to you. Your part in this is over."

Mordecai shook his head and continued his filing. "I don't believe you...I really don't fucking believe you..."

"Then don't—see if I care!" He stood up. "I thought of all people you'd be the one who was happy I found someone to love and take care of."

"She's nineteen, Benson."

"So what? Weren't you the one telling me last month nineteen was fine—that it was legal?"

"Well now that I see it—and I mean _really_ see it—it's creepy and disturbing, and it needs to stop before you get us both killed—because that bull's got two horns, and he's not afraid to use them."

"Well I have two feet that I'm not afraid to use either." He grabbed his coat off the rack and threw it over himself on his way over to the door. "I'm late for my skating lessons anyway..."

"Have fun getting that bullet put through your brain when her boyfriend finds out!" he shouted.

"Fuck you, Mordecai, you don't know what you're talking about!" he called from down the hall.

The blue jay just shook his head and sighed, going back to angrily marking up the file cases.

* * *

><p>"You're doing much better with your turns," Evelyn said to Benson later that night. "My boss was very impressed with your improvement. You should be very proud of yourself."<p>

"I am proud of myself." He smiled at her as she sat across from him at the table at the snack bar. "But I wouldn't have gotten here without such a great teacher."

"You'll surpass me one day soon, I bet."

"I don't think so..."

She smiled as she poured the contents of her bag onto the table and opened up a Tupperware container of white rice with cheese and crackers on the side.

"I'm starving," she said, "haven't eaten a thing all day. You'd think the woman I talk to all the time would feed me, but nope. Guess that's how she got so rich. Penny-pinching."

"Well, I don't have much, but you're welcome to take what you like." He set out a sandwich, bag of chips and an apple with a side of caramel dipping sauce and shrugged. "It's simple but sustaining..." He paused. "Oh, damn."

"What's wrong?" she asked, stirring some cut up zucchini into her rice.

"You don't happen to have a knife do you?"

"Sure, I think so..." she looked in her bag. "Yep—here you go." She handed it over.

"Thanks." He held onto his apple while he began cutting into it, not noticing the strange way in which Evelyn was watching him. She leaned on the table.

"Hey, have I seen you eat an apple before?" she asked.

He looked at her. "I don't think so...why?"

"Huh...no reason," she bit down a forkful of rice, "just never seen anybody eat an apple with a fork and knife before."

"Oh...it's a thing, I gue—" he cut himself off. "Wait. I'm not using a fork."

She looked at him. "Oh...yeah..."

They sat in silence for a moment before Evelyn started snickering. "Sorry, just a case of déjà-vu I guess."

"It's alright. It kinda struck me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think it was when I was at the amusement park a few months ago, there was this girl who—" he immediately cut himself off again and stared at her. "Oh my God."

"What?"

"It was you!"

"Me? Who was me?"

"You're the girl who took my chair." He laughed. "Oh my God, what a small world!"

"Took your ch—?" then she got it. "Oh...Oh!" She bounced in her seat and glowered at him. "Oh my God, you're the guy who ate the apple with a fork and knife at the amusement park!"

"Yeah, that was me!" He laughed again. "Wow, and you're the girl who took my extra seat?"

"Yeah—oh my God—hi, I'm Evelyn." She shot her arm across the table to shake his hand.

"Hi, I'm Benson." He shook it.

She snickered. "But we already know that."

"Ha, ah, yeah..."

Their shaking hands died down with their charisma and not a moment later were they set gently back on the table, their fingers still interlocked with the other. Evelyn glanced down at her hand in his, and watched as his thumb softly caressed her after a moment of silence. She blushed and glanced back up to her companion.

"Ben—" "Eve—"

They paused.

"Oh, please, go ahead."

"No, you first," he replied.

Evelyn bit her lip as she leaned in further, pressing her knees tighter together as she gripped his hand a little harder. "Benson...I...umm..."

"Yes?" he leaned in, eager.

She looked into his eyes. "I'm...not really good with this kind of thing...but...I want you to know that you've been helping me out a lot since we met..."

"Oh. I'm glad..."

She nodded. "Yeah...yeah...I umm...I know I haven't opened up to you about everything...and a lot of it's hard to say...but knowing you, and knowing how much you've been there for me...I don't know. It's like you're this...this wall I can go to and just...let out my feelings if that makes any sense—even though I haven't really shared anything, which doesn't make any sense at all, but—"

"You're doing fine, Evelyn." He gave her a reassuring smile and stroked her hand. "You don't need to tell me everything about your life. I want you to go at your own pace and do what makes you feel comfortable. Do what makes you happy."

"You make me happy..."

He shifted a bit in his seat. "Oh...well..." He grinned.

"And I'm sick of Ken," she snapped. She looked at him, calming herself down from her outburst. "I mean I love him to death—really I do—he's the only true friend I've got who knows everything about me. But lately I just get sick of coming home to him. I feel like every nice thing I do, every smile, every kiss I give him, it's all just a lie to keep up that I'm still romantically attracted to him so he doesn't find out about us. I'm sorry for what he did to you—really I am—but Ken...it's hard to explain. I need him in my life, but lately, being around you, it's made me realize I just don't love him that way like I used to. When we met it was great—I actually had a schoolgirl crush on him because of who he reminded me of—but after everything that's happened between us, those feelings are just going away—"

"Evelyn—"

"Yes?"

His shields went down.

"I want to be with you."

Hers went with them.

"Oh, Ben—I want to be with you too."

There was a split second of silence before Benson gripped her hand harder and pulled her around the table to join him on the other side. Evelyn went without a struggle and swiftly lowered herself onto his lap, straddling him on his chair while she held the back of his head and kissed him as passionately as she'd ever kissed a man before. Benson leaned back in his seat and grabbed her from behind, holding onto her bottom to steady her as he too kissed her with more drive than he knew he had in him. After a moment, Evelyn broke away, and with her face still close to his, began to feverishly remove her coat to toss onto the floor. Benson looked her over.

"Is that lingerie—?"

"Don't worry about it."

And she held the back of his head again, roughly pressing her lips onto his for a second time.


	21. Through the Grapevine

Benson stamped another memo approval and slid it into the outbox that morning, grinning as he recollected his latest affairs to his employee.

"And that was the second time we had sex, and I've gotta say, I had no idea they had such comfy couches in that employee lounge of theirs." He stamped another page. "They have a TV in there too, so after that we watched some crime dramas before we went home—we were there as late as three in the morning if you can believe it."

"Mhm..." The blue jay mentally shook his head and continued his filing, almost glad he'd be going back to his normal work in a few days. Although then he'd be working with Rigby again, and nowadays all his friend wanted to do was talk about Eileen or invite her to hang out with them in their downtime. He was starting to wonder what the biggest annoyance was between the two of them, and he figured it might just be easier to let them tie.

"And the third time was when we went to—"

"Benson, please, I really don't want to hear any of this right now if that's okay..."

His boss stamped another sheet. "Oh. Sorry, Mordecai." He laughed. "I'm just really happy about it, that's all. Meeting in secret like this is one of the greatest ideas I think I've ever come up with."

He scoffed. "I still think it's crazy."

Benson looked to him. "Oh come on, lighten up. If it was you and Margaret doing this, you'd be all over it."

He glared at him from across the desk, annoyed his boss had the gal to put Margaret in that position. "Well that wouldn't happen because Margaret's not an adulterer."

Now Benson glared too. "And neither is Evelyn. She and Ken aren't married."

"I still think you need to stop. I don't understand why you can't see the problem in this situation."

"I know there's risks, but that's just what you do." He stamped another sheet. "You do crazy things for the ones you love."

"No, that's not just what you do. You've only known her for a few months—not exactly deep ties there, Benson."

"Well when I want your opinion, I'll ask for it."

"I don't care—you're still getting it."

"Well you want to know what I think?" He set his papers down and cupped his hands in front of him.

"What?" he asked, still working.

"I think you're just jealous."

"Jealous?" He stared up.

"Yeah, jealous." He counted on his fingers. "Rigby has Eileen, I have Evelyn, and what's this—you don't have Margaret? Well it's pretty damn obvious you're just bitter because you haven't gotten your girl yet—"

"You've got a lot of damn nerve you know that?"

"Oh do I?"

"You do." He flipped through his papers more aggressively. "I regret ever trying to help you out."

Benson couldn't argue. Instead he grunted and put away his stamp in the desk.

"And by the way," Mordecai continued, "that's not true what you said about me and Margaret." Even though part of his negative attitude did have to deal with her. "I just don't think sneaking around with someone else's girlfriend is a good idea. Her rough and tough boyfriend is going to find out, and I'm on the blacklist now that he knows I work for you. It's been freaking me out the past few weeks that I'm being followed. I'm growing paranoid because I think he's going to come after and kill me, all because of you."

"Well he's not, so stop getting your feathers all in a knot." Benson stood up. "Just, finish up in here and you can have the rest of the day off—I don't care." He picked up a clipboard. "I need to go make the rounds and check on the others anyway."

"Yeah, you do that..." Mordecai leaned over to finish scribbling down labels when Benson turned to him at the door.

"And by the way, Evelyn's a snow globe."

"So?" As if he didn't already know that.

"So when she orgasms, she has little flurries that spin around in her head," he smirked, "later."

He shut the door, leaving the blue jay alone to make as many gag faces as possible before getting back to his work.

* * *

><p>Evelyn couldn't help but pant in mild exhaustion and wipe the sweat from her face as she sat at the bottom of the staircase that late afternoon. Classes had ended long ago, so she used her extra time between school and Benson's lessons to practice her performance for <em>Asleep in a Blizzard<em>, and the routine was starting to become quite the workout.

She leaned against the wall and sighed out, drinking from a water bottle as she unraveled the ribbons of her dance shoes, slipping them off her feet and putting them back into her bag. She stared up at the massive staircase of the lobby where her performance would take place—a grand, wooden model that spiraled around the circular walls of the main building, reaching as high as ten stories tall. At the top was a giant glass dome that cascaded down a ray of light, illuminating a large pool at the center of the tiled floor. The stained glass sections of the done were amplified this way, and the patterns the light made on the floor looked like that of a massive spider web. Evelyn couldn't help but stare at it, wondering if she'd become hypnotized if she stared at it long enough. The thought made her smile in some strange way.

"That was very good."

She snapped her head over to a man standing in the arch of an adjoining hallway, clapping his hands in her direction, and judging by his uniform and mop cart he was the janitor. Evelyn gave him a kind smile.

"Thank you, sir." She stood up, throwing her bag around her shoulder. "It will look a lot better with the paint; I promise."

"But you have some impressive dancing though. You sure you're an artist?" He gave her a toothy grin.

She shrugged with an air of shyness. "I just grew up liking both I guess...but thank you very much."

"Then you should count yourself lucky." He walked over and began moping around her. "People would kill to just have one talent, so you should be glad you've got two."

She tightened the strap around her shoulder and took a step down. "I will, thank you—"

"Hey, be careful now, the floor's wet." He held a hand out. "Don't want you slipping and hurting yourself now do we?"

She chuckled, a bit uncomfortable. "Right, no sir. Thank you." She ducked her head low and went around him, the smile fading from her lips. "You have a good day, sir."

"You too, sweetie." He continued his moping. "Oh, I'm coming to see your thing by the way."

"You are?"

"Yeah, since it's the 100th anniversary of the college and whatnot, there's going to be news cameras and reporters recording your performance. It's going to be quite the show out."

"Oh...yeah I heard about that..." She picked up her pace.

"You shouldn't worry. From what I just saw, I bet what you'll be doing is something just spectacular, right?" He turned to watch her reaction but was mildly surprised when the snow globe was gone, already left out the entrance and running like mad away from the building.

* * *

><p>Night had fallen too soon for Mordecai. All alone that evening, he was on his way downtown to rent a movie, somewhat please that at least he could get <em>Shy Guy<em> without Rigby pitching a fit. Nope, his friend wouldn't be with him that night; he was with Eileen...again. He made a mental note to instruct Rigby on the bros before hoes theology, but he'd do it later. Maybe being a long tonight was for the best. But as luck would have it, just before he made it to the video store, he happened to glance over at the coffee shop where Margaret was sweeping up in front of the store. They made eye contact and she smiled, waving for him to join her. He went without hesitation.

"Here you go," she said, setting down a cup in front of him. "I gotta say, it's pretty funny seeing you around here tonight. After being cooped up for so long with that broken leg, I thought you'd be with Rigby and Eileen partying it up."

"I'm not restless enough to put myself in the position of third wheel." He took a sip. "But thanks though."

"Anytime." She started wiping up the counter, no other customers in the rest of the shop to take care of. "Well..." she dragged out. "I'm kind of happy Eileen's been getting out lately. She's been a little down in the dumps the past couple weeks, so I'm glad she's got Rigby to help her out of that rut."

"Seems like everyone's in a rut lately..."

She looked at him. "Aww, you miss Rigby don't you?"

"Sure." He sipped his coffee again, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. Margaret looked him over, a bit concerned.

"Looks like someone else here's a little down on their luck too."

He glanced up. "Me? Heh, nah." He looked back down again.

"You want to talk about what's on your mind?"

"Not really."

"It'll make you feel better."

"I'm really not in the mood to talk about what's bothering me." He looked at her. "Come on, let's talk about you. How's Lyle doing?"

She shrugged. "A bit distant lately." She paused. "This might sound a little selfish, but while I'm happy Eileen has Rigby, I'm still sort of jealous."

"Jealous? Of what?"

"Well, I've gone on a lot of dates the past couple years looking for the right guy and all, and it's just a little upsetting I haven't found him yet. I still think Lyle might be the one I'm looking for, so I'm going to keep working at it until I just can't take it anymore. But I don't know how long I can last, you know?"

Mordecai sneered, and she noticed. The robin narrowed her gaze. "What's the matter?"

He quickly changed his facial expression from annoyed to casual. "Oh, nothing. Just the same thing I guess..." He looked at her. "You want to know a secret?"

"Sure." The bell rang above the door, and Margaret looked past Mordecai while he took another large sip of coffee. "You can sit anywhere you like, sir—I'll be with you in a moment." She leaned back down to her friend. "Okay, what's the secret?"

The blue jay didn't even try to lower his voice.

"Well, has Evelyn said anything to you about seeing a guy other than her boyfriend?"

"No." She gasped. "Oh God, Evelyn's not cheating on Ken is she?"

"Oh yeah—big time. With my boss no less."

"With Benson?" He nodded. "Whoa...that's a bit of...a mind blow. They seem so different, and the age gap—?"

"I know. The whole thing is creeping me out too, no shock there."

"How'd you find this out?"

"He told me! Evelyn's been lying to Ken about giving skating lessons to a twelve-year old at the roller rink, and it's Benson she's been seeing the whole time there. And I'll tell ya, he's not shy about getting into any details, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, that girl...she's gonna get herself killed—I'm having a talk with her first thing in the morning, you can believe that."

"Good. I can't talk sense into Benson, but maybe you can talk some sense into her."

"I can sure try. Thanks, Mordecai."

"You're welcome." He sipped more of his coffee. As long as the subject was off him, he was fine, even if he threw his boss under the bus like that. Lowest form of discourse wasn't that bad compared to telling Margaret how he felt. He still had to keep up that air of confidence after all.

Margaret shook her head at the news and grabbed a notepad to take the man's order that came in, but stopped in her tracks when she saw he had left. "Oh, well then..." She turned back to rejoin her friend.

Outside, the man flipped open his cell phone and dialed a number, pacing quickly as he left the area. "Hey Greg, it's Eli," he said. "No, I didn't get the coffee, but put Ken on. A little birdy told me something I think he might like to hear."

* * *

><p>Benson took another drag of his cigarette and watched as the smoke wafted up toward the night sky, mixing with the drifting specks of fluff that sauntered down around them. Lessons were over, as were other things, and two sets of footprints in the snow led from the entrance of the roller rink to a knoll outside the building where Benson sat with Evelyn, both wrapped together in a thin blanket to look up at the evening stars. Evelyn sank lower beside him, her head resting on his shoulder while she yawned and looked at the cigarette in his hand. She held out her hand, and he gave it to her without hesitation. She took a drag.<p>

"I didn't know you smoke," he said.

"Mmm," she blew out, "it's one of those I-don't-do-it-very-often things. Ken smokes a lot so I do too once in a while."

"Do you always do what Ken does?"

She nodded, staring down at the burning end of the cigarette. "Yeah, I do. I don't want to cause any trouble with him, so to me, it's just better to just lie down and take what he gives out rather than fight back and make a mess for myself."

"Oh, Evelyn..." He rubbed her hat around on her head. She smiled up to him.

"But with you? Not the case. If you want to know the truth, you're actually the first person I've slept with in a really long time."

"I am?" He watched her nod. "Well what about Ken?"

"We don't do that sort of thing." She took another drag and blew out. "I'm not comfortable with him that way, and he knows it—we've talked about it. I know he has to get his own personal needs out, so I told him a long time ago if he ever had the urge to do that, then he should just get a hooker to spend the night with and I'll pay for it if he can't."

"Are you serious?"

"As a seizure."

"Evelyn, why would you do that?"

"Because I know it's not fair for him to wait around for me to give him something I just won't give him."

"Well why not? I mean I wouldn't wanna sleep with the guy either, but you're his technical girlfriend aren't you?"

"Technical maybe, but not emotional. I like to think it's because I'm not soft like other, human girls, but once in a while I think that might not be it."

"What do you mean?"

She looked at him and shrugged. "I don't know. He's almost half my size, and I don't like it when he holds me down...it kind of terrifies me in a way that's hard to explain."

"You seem fine when I hold you down."

She smiled. "That's because I want you to...and it feels good when you do it." She paused leaned down further on his chest. "And now that we're out here, watching the snowflakes come down...I don't know; I'm just happy I guess." She flicked some ashes from the tip of the cigarette. "Did you know snowflakes are one of my most favorite things in the world?"

"Really?"

"Mhm," she took one last drag before she handed it back. "They kind of remind me of little spider webs."

"Yeah, they kind of do, huh?" Benson took the cigarette from her and stubbed it out in the snow. "You know, when I was little, my mother would sometimes read to me the poem of Queen Mab before I went to bed."

"Who's Queen Mab?"

"It's from _Romeo and Juliet_. My mom was a literature teacher at the high school before she died, so she would read me Shakespeare before bed." He chuckled. "And my dad would joke, 'Well, no wonder the boy goes to sleep so fast—you're boring him to death with that stuff, Carol!'"

Evelyn giggled and wrapped an arm around him. "So then, what's the Queen Mab story?"

"Well...let's see if I can remember it—uh." He stared up at the sky and tried to recite it. "Then I see Queen Mab hath been with you...she is the fairy's midwife...umm...her traces of the smallest spider web picked from the lazy finger of a maid...in this state she gallops night by night, something about soldiers dreaming of love...dreamers often lie in bed asleep while they do or...something..." he sighed. "Sorry, I don't remember most of it, but it was pretty."

"It sounds pretty. I'll look it up when I get home."

He leaned down and kissed her head. "Mmm, what about you? Did your mom read to you?"

"No, my mom was more of a listener. She'd sit up there on her little shelf and listen to me talk about my problems all day and night, but never talked about hers..."

"Huh?"

She smiled wide and sat up. "But my Papa? Oh, Papa, he used to read to me every night. He'd come into my room before bedtime and he'd have this big, big storybook about pirates and witches and fairies and he'd sit me down in his lap and let me follow along while he showed me all the pictures. He's the one who taught me how to read that way."

"Aww, that's really sweet." Benson smiled. "What else did your Papa do?"

"He'd let me dance and run around in the yard whenever it was sunny, which wasn't very often. He'd bring me food and he'd buy me pretty clothes, and he would protect me from the monsters that would try to come in and get me."

Benson chuckled and stared up at the sky. "Wow...what kinds of bedtime stories did he tell you to believe that?"

Evelyn's smile slowly faded from her lips, and after a moment she scooted a bit further from him, hunching over to hug her knees. This made Benson look over at her, his own smile fading as he turned himself to face her better, concerned. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Was it something I said?"

She hesitated. "Umm...they're not just stories...?" she said a bit quieter, avoiding eye contact. "We...umm...used to live in a bad place, and there were these...these people, who would come into my room at night and..." her voice started shaking, "and...they'd umm...umm..."

"Hey..." Benson leaned over to rub her shoulder, but Evelyn shied away from him. He frowned and brought his arm back. "Oh, I'm sorry..."

"Oh, umm...no...I'm sorry." She brought herself to sit back up and look at him, her lip quivering into a smile. "Heh..." she sniffed. "See? I'm okay..."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Fine, fine..." she steadied her voice. "I just have some...things I'm still dealing with—but, heh, you know what they say…time can heal it, and then I can talk about it one day..."

"Well don't push yourself...It's going to be okay..." He reached up a second time, and when she didn't pull away, he stroked a finger along her cheek and gave her a sad, reassuring smile. "There...see? You're okay..."

She nodded and sniffed, reaching up to keep his hand there. "Thank you..." She sighed and spoke louder. "Wow...Ken's never been this gentle with me..."

He continued to stroke a thumb along her glass. "Then why do you stay with him?"

"He forces me to. I really can't help it."

"Then why don't we run away together?"

She snorted, sniffing again, and wiped a stray tear away before looking him in the eye. "Run away together? You and me?"

"Yeah, like eloping."

She chuckled. "Aren't you a little old to be running away with someone?"

"Not if you call it eloping," he repeated. He smiled. "Come on...everything will be fine, Evelyn. We'll go somewhere together where he won't find us—just like Romeo and Juliet were going to do."

"Well you see how great it turned out for them."

"That won't happen to us. We'll end up somewhere nice, out in the woods maybe, where no one knows where we are."

"That's crazy..."

"Is it?" He took her hand. "Think about it. You told me you hate being with Ken, and it's obvious he won't let you go unless you take a drastic measure."

"I think leaving him would be the drastic measure in and of itself..."

"Then answer me this question: Where would you rather be—or, rather, what you would make you happier: staying with Ken the rest of your life, being miserable, only seeing me until these lessons end, or leaving with me where we can both start our lives over together?"

"Well when you put it that way..."

"Then let's do it, Evelyn." He crept closer to her and took both her hands in his. "We can leave at our next lesson in two days."

"But Benson—"

"Oh—wait," he interrupted. "Your performance piece—damnit." He looked to the side. "You can't miss that..."

"My performance piece..." She paused to think a moment. "Benson, I—"

"I know, I know, you need to go to that, but Evelyn, what if after that we—"

"No, no, wait, let me finish." She held her hands up and smiled. "I can miss it."

"What?"

"I can miss it. If we leave together in two days, I'll miss it. For you."

"But you've been working so hard on this. I can't take that away from you."

"Yes you can." She closed the gap between them and held his hands tighter as she got on her knees. "Please, Benson, I don't want to do it anymore. I want to go with you now. You make me happy, and you make me want to change and get better..." Her voice softened. "I want to miss the performance and get better. Please tell me we can do this, Benson. Please?"

He couldn't say no. There was a look she gave him, one that pleaded with him to not deny what she wanted, and he curled his fingers around hers, pulling her closer to him where he held her and told her, "Then yes, we can leave together in two days..." She smiled, and in her change in attitude came a dip in her posture. To Benson, it was as if some giant weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders and she could finally breathe again. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, she wrapped hers tighter around him, and in a giddy, hushed whisper, he told her, "Hey Evelyn..."

"Yeah?" she whispered back.

"We're eloping..."

"I know..." She giggled.

They parted and pressed their faces together, snickering to one another like school children about the secret only they knew, and as the frost drifted down in larger clumps around them, they kissed each other again, Evelyn pushing too hard at one point that caused Benson to fall back with her into the snow. They didn't seem to mind as they continued their romantic affairs, unaware that a yellow car with a thick black stripe was watching them the entire time, soon to pull out and leave the area before they even had time to sit back up.


	22. Breaking Points

_A/N: Okay, this is going to be a pretty big one so bear with me lol._

_First matter is for Jim: no, you're not being mean at all! I love constructive criticism—it's how I've developed my writing over the years. And my thought process going into the two issues you've brought up with Mordecai and Benson are: Benson's finally found something to get him out of his rut, and going through clinical depression myself, I've found I tend to tell everyone everything about what makes me happy just to keep my mind from going back to darker places (like obsessing Regular Show to my friends for example lol). For Benson, having Mordecai there working with him, and being the guy who wanted him to get a girl in the first place, in his mind it was an open invitation to tell him everything about the situation because of how happy it made him, not thinking about Mordecai's feelings on the subject in the process. As for Mordecai, he stated earlier to Evelyn that he needed to keep up an air of confidence around Margaret because that's what girls like about a guy. While true he is paranoid about being followed, being around Margaret in a cafe gives him a better feeling of security as opposed to walking the streets at night alone, and the conversation was going into Mordecai talking about his feelings, so he needed to bring up something on the spot to change topics, and still being upset with Benson from earlier, that was the first place he went. I re-read those passages, and you're right, I should have made that more clear, so thank you for bringing up those issues, and I'll keep that in mind for future chapters._

_Second matter is to JadeRoseofChaos: I was literally speechless after reading your review. No kidding, I went to sit in a corner and stare at my manuscripts for my original fiction and think I might become a great author someday because of your words. I'm not gonna lie, I was a bit conflicted about posting this story in the first place just because of those reasons of having an OC meaning an automatic Mary Sue and getting flamed for it, so it took a little bit of courage to post it and hope for the best. I'm glad I did because it's introduced me to some amazing people I wouldn't have met without this story bringing us together (and for that, I'm thankful). And your review came on Christmas, so needless to say, it was quite the gift :) Thank you._

_Third matter is I have some pretty exciting news! After meeting Olivia through this story, the two of us have come up with a fanclub over on deviantart where we will upload theeeeeeeeee (drum roll) COMIC VERSION OF ASLEEP IN A BLIZZARD! (insert mine and her's cheering here, but others are welcome to join in lol). Olivia will be going back to chapter one and re-tell the story through comic-format on her DA page that we will put into the fanclub gallery as they are completed. We're going to start this very soon, hopefully by this or next week. So if you have a deviantart account, the club is called AiaB-Fans and because of this new comic-format, I've agreed to slow down my chapter uploads to give her a little more time to catch up. So after this chapter, instead of uploading once a week, I'll start uploading around once ever two weeks or so, but its flexible._

_And the Fourth matter is I just saw the plot to the new episode "Weekend at Benson's" and it sounds like a kid-friendly version of this story XD If you haven't read what it's about yet, go check it out—it airs mid-January. There's some pretty awesome similarities, so I'm interested to see how their version plays out apart form this one (which will be much more dark as the chapters come to a close). Speaking of which, this chapter is a little emotionally heavy, so for anyone faint-hearted (Olivia lol) it's just a warning that you'll be getting into some darker territory from here on out, and the emotions will only get darker and more complex as the chapters count down. This is chapter 22, and there are 30 in all, so please sit back, have some cocoa, and I hope you enjoy the final stretch of this story. And as always, thank you for reading!_

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><p>Evelyn hummed a soft tune that night as she ascended the stairs to her apartment. She waved Benson off moments earlier after he dropped her off on the corner, and as she went up each step, she swayed her hips and arms to the soft melody playing in her head. For once she smiled with a tender nature, thinking that something was finally going to go right in her life with this new plan of running away with her new friend. Her humming carried her into her apartment, and she lovingly sighed as she leaned back on the door, letting it gently click shut behind her.<p>

"You're in a good mood."

She looked over at Ken sitting on the couch, several empty bottles of beer scattered around the floor and coffee table. Evelyn dropped her bag by the side table and began removing her coat, not thinking much of it.

"You're up late. Don't' you know what time it is?"

"Said the two-faced whore as she walked through the door," he replied. He took a swig.

Evelyn froze, her coat halfway off her body. "What?"

"New song lyrics," he said, glaring at her. "What do you think?"

She felt a tad uneasy. "I think you might have had just one too many..." She slid her coat off the rest of the way and hung it on the rack. "Come on, I'll fix you some ice water, and we can get to bed."

Ken rolled his lips and stood up, downing the rest of his alcohol before throwing the empty bottle across the room at the bookshelf. When it hit, the top shelves broke and toppled to the floor along with half the books and knickknacks, causing Evelyn to jump and back up against the door as Ken made his way over, towering over the small snow globe when he approached her. She felt her heart shiver in her chest, and she took hold of the doorknob behind her back, sinking low and trying to look at him without showing fear.

"What's up, Ken...?" She could barely steady her voice. "Are you upset about something...?"

He didn't say a word. When he heard the small click of the knob when she took hold of it, he slid the chain across the door, the small clinking sound amplified in Evelyn's head as her eyes remained fixed on his stone-cold expression. Her heart beat faster, and a lump formed in her throat.

"Why'd you lock the door, Ken...?"

He stared her down. "Because we need to have a talk."

"What kind of talk...?"

He looked her body over and ran a gentle hand along her scarf, caressing it with his fingertips at first before wrapping it a few times around his hand. Evelyn panted slightly.

"I just have a...funny feeling you might be lying to me about something..." he said.

"I wouldn't lie to you, Ken..."

"Mmm, really...?" He twitched his lip, and in a split second stretched his face into an angered frown, pulling hard at her scarf just enough to drag her down to the floor. Evelyn coughed, removing and tossing away her gloves to try and pry the scarf from around her neck with her fingers. She gasped for breath as she got to her knees, but he pulled her down again, forcing her to fall back to his feet like a dog.

"I want to hear it from you," he said. "So say it."

"Hear what?" she tried to ask.

"Where you were just now."

"I was giving skating lessons—ahh!" He pulled harder, choking her.

"With who?"

"J-Jenny..." she squeaked out. "Twelve...year old..."

Ken licked his teeth and kicked her hard on the side, causing her to tumble over onto her back. She gasped.

"Ken..."

"Don't you lie to me, Evelyn. I want to hear you say it. Who were you with?"

"Jenny..."

He sneered. "Lie to me one more time..."

"It's Jen...ny..." She coughed.

Ken growled and stepped over her, shoving her hard onto her front with his boot before kicking her on her bottom. "Get up."

"Ken," she cried.

"I said get up."

Still tugging at the fabric so tight around her neck, Evelyn stood weakly, her knees wobbling, and by the time she was fully upright, Ken stepped around her and pulled her by her scarf into the bedroom. Evelyn resisted, trying to grab onto the doorframe while he dragged her inside, anything to prevent him from pulling her any farther, but it was hard to do when her clothing bound her neck.

"Ken, stop," she coughed. "Stop, please."

He approached her again and yanked her arms from the wall, digging his nails into her to keep her from resisting him again. In one fluid motion, he kicked her over to the bed and threw her down, letting go of the scarf as he jerked the bedside phone out of the wall and removed the cords.

"I'm getting answers out of you, Evelyn..." he said, his voice dangerously low. "One way or another."

Evelyn frantically pulled the scarf from around her neck and panted, trying to calm herself down and breathe, but that was short-lived when Ken came back and grabbed both her wrists. Evelyn grunted as he pulled her down onto her stomach and used the phone cords to tie her wrists to the bedpost, the snow globe pulling and trying to escape the whole time. But it wasn't of any use.

"Ken, you're scaring me," she cried. "This isn't funny—stop it!"

"Then tell me who you were with!"

"I told you—Jenny Horowitz!"

Ken crawled onto the bed and straddled her, shoving her head down into the pillow when she tried to gasp for air. "You're lying!"

Through her muffled shouting, he could barely make out her words, but he knew she was denying his claims. There was no doubt about that. He felt her start kicking her legs around, and he forced his own legs on top of hers to keep them still. He grabbed hold of her neck and jerked her head to the side. "Tell me who you were with!"

She gasped. "I-I told you. J-Jenny Horowitz." Evelyn barely had time to say the name before Ken shoved her head back down into the pillow and gripped her bottom.

"Spread your legs," he instructed.

"What?" she said, her voice muffled.

"You heard me!"

She struggled against him and grunted, doing whatever she could to keep them closed. Fed up, Ken soon forced them apart himself and steadied her bottom as he lifted it into the air. "Then it's your last chance," he said. "Tell me who you were with, or I'll do it."

She dug her head into the pillow and shook her head. "I'm not lying; I'm not lying; I'm not lying; I'm not lying!"

Then she felt it. She felt him pinch the brass knob between her legs, and she gasped out.

"No, Ken!" Her voice became panicked. "Stop. Stop!"

But he twisted anyway, and she groaned and rubbed her forehead onto the pillow, curling her aching fingers into a tight fist against the post.

"Tell me," he demanded.

"I told you," she begged. "It was Jenny."

He twisted again.

She groaned. "Jenny Horowitz!"

He twisted again, and she cried. It was beginning to hurt.

"Jenny Horowitz, twelve-years old, likes hot chocolate and shoe shopping—ahh!" He twisted harder. She screamed. "Jenny Horowitz, twelve-years old, likes hot chocolate and shoe shopping, her dad's an accountant—AHH!"

"Stop lying!" he shouted and twisted the knob even harder. She cried out and tears began to stream down her face, but Ken wouldn't stop. She panted and wheezed, her wrists burning as the cords tightened around her hands the more she resisted, and while trying her hardest to keep the pain from her mind, it was all but successful. Everything now was too much to bear, and it was beginning to hurt her more than she could imagine.

"I'll stop when you tell me the truth, Evelyn," Ken said. "So tell me who you were with." He gave her knob another harsh twist, this time sending waves of searing pain along her sensitive nerves that ran from between her legs down to her feet. She became warm, and she wailed, her muscle spasms growing more violent the longer this went on.

"Stop! Stop, please! Ken! AAAHH!" Her voice grew more erratic as she continued to scream in a high-pitched tone, thrashing around as much as she could in hopes he would get off her. But he wouldn't.

"Then tell me who it was!" he shouted as he kept his full body weight on her. "Answer me! I want to hear you say it!" He twisted harder and she cried out in another agonizing pain, groaning and wheezing just trying to cope with the brutal, numbing stinging coming from inside her.

"I swear," she shouted out, "her name is Jenny. It's Jenny!" She began to cry, her words unable to form, and it would only get worse.

Ken twisted it to the point where it would not twist anymore. Evelyn heaved and cried, pulling hard at her wrists hoping to break free and run, but there was no use. She was trapped.

"Let me go, Ken...please let me go...ahhh..."

Tears began to form in his eyes too. "Just tell me his name, Evelyn...that's all I want to hear. Just tell me his name and I'll stop..."

"There is no him, Ken," she cried. "There's no him...please..."

He bit the inside of his lip and looked away. Hurt, confused, angered, and just a tad vengeful, he let the rage build inside him a moment longer before he shouted out in his own aggression and shoved her head further into the pillow, twisting the knob as hard as he could. It broke it past its limit by a few good turns.

She could hear the tumbling of the mechanics inside her. They were the sounds of her deforming anatomy—the sounds of her childhood. As the pain overwhelmed her, she began remembering everything she tried so hard to forget. How she would be forced down by those enormous men who fucked her, and those monsters who would twist her knob beyond its limitations just to hear her cry. It was all too clear now. How she would scream so loud her voice would break. And those monsters always wanted more.

_"Oh yeah. It's so hot when you scream..."_

_She wheezed, her young voice barely on the edge of collapse. "P-Papa!"_

_"That's right. Yell louder." They'd smack her again. "Call for help. Do it."_

_"Papa!"_

_They'd go rougher._

_"Papa!" she cried out. "Papa! Papa!"_

"PAPA!" She shrieked.

Ken stopped and panted, staring her down. "No. Sto—"

"Papa!" She began to hyperventilate. "Papa! Papa! PAPA!"

"Shut up!"

"Papa!" Her voice began to break as she continued to gasp for air. "I want my Papa! PAPA!"

"I said stop!" Ken forced her head back down into the pillow, and after a few more moments of smothering her, holding his body tight against hers to stop her convulsing, Evelyn's body fell limp.

Ken let out the breath he anxiously held inside him, and he watched her cautiously as he lifted himself from her. He watched the way she sniveled and wheezed into the pillow, weaker now than she was just seconds earlier, and even then she was still weak. She was shivering, and Ken let go of her knob. After a few loud tumbles sounded inside her body, the music box chimed to life. As he listened, he heard the melody was now much more broken than before, now out of tune right from the start, but longer lasting as the sharps and flats chimed in different tones throughout the song. He had worsened her deformity.

As he got up from the bed and slowly backed away to the door, he could hear the thunks and clinks of the music box inside her trying to keep itself together and not break after being in near destruction by his reckless actions. Evelyn remained still. Unable to take in what he'd done, he slipped through the door and shut it behind him, sinking down to the floor where he buried his face in his hands.

He hesitated in the near silent apartment. "Dear God..."

"Aww, what's wrong now, Ken? Girlfriend trouble?"

Ken snapped his head up, and standing before him now in his leather jacket and jeans was an old acquaintance Ken never wanted the opportunity to see. He gulped.

"What do you want, Death...?" he asked, trying to sound tougher than he felt.

"Well I heard some screaming, so I thought I'd come check it out."

"I didn't mean to do what I did," he pleaded. He got to his knees before him. "Please, I didn't mean it—I didn't mean it!"

He held up a crooked hand. "Now, now, calm yourself down before you get your knickers in a bunch, Kenneth. I'm not here to take your soul."

Ken panted, his hands clasped together as if in prayer. "Please, I can't help myself. I can't! Please no, please no, please no, please—"

"Didn't you hear me?" He tapped him with his foot, causing the human to tumble back against the door. "I said you was fine now. Calm yourself down, mate."

"But she's going to leave me, Death." He heaved. "She's going to—I know she is. I saw her with another guy tonight, and—and—she refused to tell me the truth about him. Oh God, I know for a fact she was with someone else—I saw them together myself—but she wouldn't call him out...not even when I...when I...Oh God," he buried his face again. "I tortured her—I fucking tortured her and she still didn't tell me. She still didn't fucking tell me!"

"Well that wasn't too bright of ya now was it?" He chuckled. "Torture's not exactly the best form of taking care of someone...Do I need to remind you of our lil deal again?"

He shivered and looked away, still frightened as Death pulled a contract from his jacket.

"I'll adlib this in layman's terms for you, Kenneth, so you'll understand it better next time."

"She can't leave me..." he whispered to himself.

"In exchange for the brutal murders you committed on your Mum and Dad when you was eighteen, you have the option of choosing one—count it, one—person to make happy the rest of his or her life in the deal your soul will be saved from the flames in regards to your crime." He looked back to him, rolling up the parchment. "Was that a little more clear or should I slow it down some more?"

"Why are you doing this to me..." He refused to look at him. "Why...?"

"We all get bored where I'm from, and it's fun to toy around with mortals like yourselves once in a while. But it ain't a game to you is it? Ha, this is your eternal soul we're gambling here, isn't it?"

"I have to make her happy...I have to do something...anything...but I don't know what—she hates me. She loves someone else—she'll leave me and I'll be damned—that witch is fucking damning me! She's fucking damning me!" He slammed a fist on the floor.

"Hey, you're the one who picked her in the first place, mate. I asked if you were sure, and you said you were, so you have fun trying to figure out how to win her over again, but a quick word of advice, Ken?"

He looked to him.

"Calling her a witch and saying she's damning you? Mmm, not the best way to win some affection on her end. Neither is torture for that matter."

"What's it fucking matter?" He looked away again, not wanting him to see the red tears in his eyes. "She'll never forgive me. This…what I've done…it's over. It's fucking over...I can't ever make her happy—I'm too fucked up for anything, and she fucking knows it!"

"Well s'not over til the fat lady sings, and you just remember our lil deal. You make her happy and set for life, and your soul's saved from Hell. But if you don't..."

Ken looked up when Death lingered, and he stared up just in time to see the other slid a bony finger across his throat. Ken held his own and looked back down, horrified.

"But you just do what you think'll make her feel better. You always know what's best, don't you, Ken?" He laughed and turned. "And by the way, got your new single. Nice drum solo on Eli's part—let him know that, would ya?"

And when Ken glanced up again, Death was gone—completely vanished from their apartment quicker than when he had arrived. Ken swallowed hard and stood up, turning back to the door, his nerves still shaking.

"Oh, Evelyn..."

The music box melody had already died down by the time Ken returned to the bedroom. He pressed himself against the door to close it, not quite able to look at his girlfriend still lying face down on the bed in shame. He dragged his feet toward her, his eyes scanning the floor until he reached her, and when he sat by her bedside, he finally looked over at what he'd done. Her wrists were still bound to the headboard; her body was still stiff and stretched out; her head now tilted toward the window where she stared out the glass with a cationic expression. Her face was streaked with dry tears, bags heavy under her eyes, and between her legs was a thin, clear puddle. Ken noticed this the moment he sat down, and he swiped a finger along her thigh where the substance was coming from. Upon further inspection, he noticed it was the same glittering liquid inside her head.

She'd leaked.

Without saying a word, Ken reached down for a dirty towel on the floor and lifted her bottom again, first cleaning up the spill that ran down and between her legs before soaking up the puddle on the mattress. Evelyn remained emotionless the entire time, her expression never changing as Ken continued to move her body in order to clean her mess. She continued to stare out the window, no strength in her left to fight against him. She knew she couldn't even if she wanted to. She never was able to. Never.

As Ken finished cleaning her up, he threw a dry blanket over her to keep her warm through the night, and he knelt beside her to kiss her forehead. She didn't even flinch.

"I love you," he said, but the words never registered through to her. They'd never register again. After Ken cut the cords binding her wrists, Evelyn slowly and robotically curled into the fetal position while Ken headed to the bathroom for a hot shower, hoping to wash away everything. As the running water echoed in her head, Evelyn shed a few more silent tears in deep thought.

Why did anyone ever bother giving birth to me?


	23. Peace of Mind

_A/N: The cover and comic are now uploaded on DeviantArt so be sure to go check em out—Olivia did a great job on them! And I wanna give a shout out to irism on DA. If you don't know her, well, you should—she does some amazing animations, and she's quite talented with what she does. So go check her out while you're at it—you won't be disappointed =)_

_Also I got this message on my website from a friend of mine: "I don't think I've told you this, but that fact that you write Regular Show fanfiction is cool in an incredibly dorky way. Like, it's cool enough to more than make up for the fact that you like The Big Bang Theory."_

_A thousand pardons, madam, but I LOVE The Big Bang Theory B[ There's no shame in it._

_This is chapter 23 out of 30—just 8 more to go! As always, thanks for reading!_

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><p>Benson was happy. Despite the gathering storm clouds and the imminent blizzard making its way south, Benson was first and foremost happy.<p>

As he drove the golf cart back to the park house that early, Thursday afternoon, he couldn't help but smile at the good fortune finally coming his way. Everything would be perfect. He'd go home that night and pack—nothing extraneous mind anyone, just something light and simple—and get his gas tank filled before picking up Evelyn at 9 P.M. on the dot. He'd arrive early to greet her at the rink and surprise her with a bouquet of yellow roses and a fresh batch of Skips' muffins, to which the yeti so graciously accepted to preparing for her. He was already getting a pretty clear picture of how tomorrow evening would play out, and with a metaphorical spring in his step, he was quite looking forward to it.

When the house came into view, so did one of his employees, and Benson eased on the brake as he approached the blue jay walking back to the house with a shovel and bag in hand. The two of them hadn't spoken since their fight the previous day, and when Mordecai heard the tires on the gravel, he stopped and glanced over, just as Benson parked beside him.

"Hey," the gumball machine started.

"Hey," Mordecai replied, but his tone was thick with indifference.

Benson drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Heading back in?"

"Yeah. Finished the road kill thing. It's going to hail soon."

"Right, right...umm...thanks for doing a great job today. Just drove by; it looks pretty good."

"Thanks."

"Yeah...yeah..." Benson sighed and turned off the engine. "Listen..." he began. "I'm sorry about what happened yesterday…I didn't mean what I said about you and Margaret..."

"It's cool," he said, even though he still felt the sting.

"I mean it, and I appreciate the help you've given me, but I can handle the rest on my own now."

Mordecai cocked an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean—?"

But he was cut off by Skips' voice coming in on the walkie.

"Hey, Benson, what kind of muffins did you want for this girl again? I couldn't remember if it was blueberry or cinnamon apple."

"Cinnamon apple," Benson replied with lightning speed. "And her favorite color is pink, so if you have a pink ribbon or something to tie them up with, that'd be fantastic. Thanks again, Skips. I really appreciate this."

"Don't mention it," he said, and then the gumball machine switched it off. He met Mordecai's gaze again.

"Muffins?" the blue jay inquired.

"Yes."

"You're having Skips bake her muffins?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

He figured he'd have to tell Mordecai sooner or later.

"Because...we're leaving tomorrow night. We're going off together."

"What? You mean like, running away?"

"Yes."

Mordecai bit his lip and shifted his weight on the other leg, not knowing if he should, yell, punch, or keep his cool. He went with the later. "Benson, look, I'm really trying to be calm about this, but for God's sake, are you out of your mind?"

He knew he wouldn't understand.

"Probably, but who cares if I am or not?"

"I care!"

"Well I'm sorry, but my mind's made up." He glared. "I talked it over with Skips—he's second in command and he'll be in charge until Maellard finds my replacement."

"And Skips is just okay with this?"

"I explained the situation to him, and he understood."

"No. No, no, no, there's nothing to understand here."

"Yes, there is!" He turned his body to face him. "We're not doing this because we feel like it. This is an issue of severe importance, and it's not just to help her get somewhere safe, it's to help me too."

"Help you what, get murdered?"

"What the hell, Mordecai? Why are you—"

"Just, God, why are you doing this? Don't you know this isn't going to solve anything? It's just going to cause more problems than finding solutions."

"Mordecai, you have no idea what's going on."

"I think I might know more than you're letting on."

"Okay then, do you know this girl's boyfriend abuses her on a regular basis and is forcing her to stay in a relationship she wants out of?"

I wouldn't put it past him, Mordecai thought. He shook his head. "That doesn't matter. You don't need to be running off with her. Just get her to file a report or something, and everything will be fine."

"It's not that simple, Mordecai, and like I said, it's to help me too. You of all people know about the rut I've been in. I've been depressed for years, and when you're depressed, if you can find something, anything, to take your mind off yourself, you want to hold onto it in hopes you never go back."

"But don't you think this might be a bit drastic? Someone like Ken will find you no matter where you go, and probably, oh, I don't know, kill one of your employees over information on your whereabouts."

"Again, I explained the situation to Skips—he's going to keep an extra eye on you guys, and if Ken or any one of his goons steps one foot out of line while we're gone, he's calling the police. You have nothing to worry about."

"Yes, yes I do have things to worry about!"

Benson turned and started the engine. "I've made my peace with you, Mordecai, and that's all I'm going to say. I'll see you tomorrow."

And he drove off soon after, ignoring whatever else the blue jay had to say—that is, if he even had anything to say at all.

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><p>Margaret had no words. Sure she had plenty of things to say an hour beforehand, but when Evelyn limped into the coffee shop that morning, her scarf and coat failing to conceal the bruises on her arms and neck, everything she had planned to say went straight out the window. The two sat in a booth near the back, Evelyn in the corner, almost like she wanted to hide from the rest of the world.<p>

"Are you sure you don't want anything?" the robin asked in a whisper after their talk.

"I'm sure," her voice cracked. She looked up at Margaret where she sat at the booth and hugged her knees. "Just please promise you won't tell anyone...okay?"

"I-I won't..." Margaret really didn't know what to say. She leaned in and tried to think while Evelyn glanced her over.

"I'm sorry. Umm...what is it you wanted to tell me?"

Margaret didn't take her gaze off the table. "...It's nothing."

"Okay..." She stretched out and buried her head in her arms "...I don't feel like going to school today."

"You need to go to the hospital."

"No, I don't."

She looked up. "But Evelyn—"

"I'm fine, Margaret, okay?" She sniffed back some tears. "This, this isn't anything new—I told you because you asked—"

"You told me because your asking for help."

"I don't need help.

"Yes you do."

"No. I've known Ken longer than anyone else. I can handle this; I can handle this."

"Evelyn, this is serious. You have to tell the police—"

"No!"

"Evelyn!"

"I said no!" She stared at her friend, upset that she was getting angry, but God, why wouldn't she just drop it? She regretted saying anything. "I can handle it, okay? I-I can handle it. He's my boyfriend. He's my friend. I can handle it."

"But your music box—it's part of your body, Evelyn."

She shook in her seat and looked away. "It's fine. I just need some time to figure something out. I'll get through it okay. Okay? Okay."

Margaret opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off when the bell rang above the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mordecai racing toward her, looking almost panicked. From where Evelyn sat at the booth, it was hard to see her from his perspective, so without knowing she was there, Mordecai waved to his friend and shouted, "Yo, Margaret—I need to talk to you about Evelyn—"

Margaret glared at him as she scrambled from the booth, grabbing his wing just as he came into view of the snow globe. He stopped in his tracks, Margaret idly pulling him away from the table. He stared at her.

"Oh...hey Evelyn."

She looked up at him with a confused expression, the bags under her eyes soaked with tears. And Mordecai saw the pale bruises along her neck.

"Oh..."

"Come here." Margaret pulled him away from the table and brought him to the kitchen where they could talk in private. Evelyn made the attempt to lean in, but saw her reflection in the display case. She didn't notice when she left the house, but now she realized she was wearing the light pink coat Ken bought her from Reno. The sight of it on her almost made her gag remembering the night before, and when the two birds left her field of vision, Evelyn glanced over at the napkin dispenser and the pen Margaret left behind on the table.

"What happened?" Mordecai asked in the other room.

Margaret sighed and tried wiping her forehead in thought. "Look, I can't talk about it with you, but it's fine, fine, we can talk here—just what's up? What about Evelyn?"

"I just wanted to know how your talk went about getting her out of this eloping nonsense." He looked back out the kitchen window. "Is that why she's crying?"

"No, she's crying because..." she sighed. "It's not my place to say, but, Mordecai, I'm sorry. I can't tell her not to run off with your boss—I just can't."

He snapped back to her. "What, why not?"

Margaret lowered her voice. "I think it would be good for her."

"Oh. So it was Ken wasn't it?"

She nodded.

"Jesus...What did he do this time?"

"This time?" She glared at him. "Wait, you knew about this?"

"Knew about what? _God_," he was getting frustrated, "you people talk in riddles around here."

"Tell me. Did you or did you not know Ken was hurting her?"

"Somewhat, but...is what he's doing that bad?"

"Yes!" She calmed herself down. "Yes. And I'm pissed off that I didn't know about this sooner. He's abusing her, and from what she just told me, it's getting really really bad."

There it was. The A-word again. Mordecai crossed his arms and stared at the floor, just trying to think. Margaret crossed her arms too and stepped closer.

"Listen, I know how you feel about your boss and Evelyn, and I know it's all really complicated turmoil, but I'm worried about her. Now, I'm going to be supportive of her decision to leave tomorrow, and that's my stance on it, so if you're trying to change my mind—"

"I'm not here to get you to change your mind..." He refused to make eye contact. "It's just…what about us?"

"What _about_ us?"

"What about our safety? We're all in this too, you know." He looked at her and almost regretted what he said when he saw her frown at him.

"I can't even..." She sighed. "I really like you Mordecai, but this is just one of those times you need to stop thinking about yourself for once."

He wanted to say something, but she continued without a pause.

"We have a better chance of dealing with any wrath that comes from this than she does by continuing to go through it by staying with him. And from my perspective, I think Benson's completely in the right in wanting to do this. He can take care of her. He's a true friend. Evelyn's been with him since we were in high school together, so God knows how long this had been going on under my nose. At least she told Benson, and he's going to do something about it, but you need to see it like that and stop worrying over yourself. You'll be fine, I'll be fine, she's the one who needs help right now, and I'd hope..."

She trailed off a bit when she saw his upset expression. She lightened hers, and tried calming herself down.

"And I'd hope if I was getting abused, I'd have a good friend like you to come and take me away from it too."

That hit home for him. He uncrossed his wings and sighed, staring down at the floor while he pushed away from the counter. "Fine...I just want things to turn out okay..."

"And they will," she assured him. When an awkward silence made itself clear to the both of them, she stepped toward him again. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Yeah...umm...whatever you want to make; that's fine."

"Okay..."

While she headed to the counter, Mordecai turned to head back out to the restaurant.

"Hey."

Mordecai glanced up as Evelyn came up to him, slouching slightly as she kept her distance. He finally got a good look at her, and the bruises and scratches spoke volumes, despite their subtly. He felt his mouth go dry when she said, "I need to talk to you."

"Okay...what's up?"

"I umm..." She tried forcing herself to look him in the eye, and it was obvious that she was struggling in her effors. "If you're upset with me, I'm sorry for whatever it was I did, but umm..." she looked down at the folded napkin between her mittens. "I just want to ask if you if you can repay your solid—and that's all. I won't bother you anymore."

"What solid—oh." Their deal that Evelyn wouldn't tell his secret to Margaret. "Umm...sure, but...it's okay. What do you need?"

She shyly approached him and handed it over, looking away as he pricked it from her weak grip. Mordecai opened the fold and read down the list she scribbled upon it. He grew a bit concerned and looked at her. "Evelyn...what is this?"

"I just need it..." She kept avoiding eye contact as she shoved her fists deeper into her pockets. "It's for a friend, so don't worry. Just get them for me..."

Must be Benson, Mordecai thought.

"Okay...I'll get them for you." He stuck the paper in his jacket pocket. "When do you need them—"

"Tomorrow afternoon," she said abruptly. "Drop them off at my apartment at 5."

"Okay."

"And don't tell anyone."

"I promise..."

And without saying anything else, Evelyn made her way around him, barely glancing into his eyes as she left. Mordecai noticed her slight limp, and really did feel like the bad guy when he should have said something. He turned to Margaret when she emerged from the kitchen.

"What did she say?" she asked, a mocha frappe in hand.

"Nothing," Mordecai sighed. "But I have some errands I need to run..."

* * *

><p>Evelyn couldn't help but dwell on her own thoughts the entire time she sat with Veronica that afternoon at her session. While the gumball machine played music for her on her piano, Evelyn stretched across the couch and zoned out on darker and darker thoughts the longer she idled with the memory of what happened the night before.<p>

I could have strangled him with the phone cords, she thought. Give him a taste of his own medicine...No, wait, he cut them when he let me go...Hmm, I guess stabbing him would have been fine, but...damn, I would've loved to see the look on his face when he woke up to me with a knife. I'd be standing over him, the largest knife I had raised up, aimed at his throat...or maybe a bat. Yeah, a cold, metal bat I could use to bash his brains in...Maybe tie him up and poison him while I'm at it if I'm going the extra yard. And sew his mouth shut so he can't scream for help...like me. And I'd never deny it. I'd stand up there on my defense table, in my orange jumpsuit and everything and shout, 'You're damn right I killed him, and I'd kill him again! The bastard had it coming, and he knew it! And I'll kill a million more just like him 'til the day I die!'...And then I'd rot forever in a prison cell somewhere the rest of my life...Would it be worth it? Maybe, but...

She sighed, depressed.

What would Benson ever think?

"Well?"

Evelyn looked over when Veronica spoke. The gumball machine had finished playing and turned slightly toward her for her input. The blonde smiled. "What did you think?"

"It was nice..." was all she could bring herself to say. "Sad, but nice..."

"I know. I feel all I can do these days is write sad things." She wiped her fingers along the keys. "It's just so hard sometimes to wake up and know he's not around anymore..."

"Yeah..." Evelyn really didn't want to talk about this anymore.

The wind was picking up outside, and Veronica contemplated. "...I wish I could go back sometimes...to see if there was a warning sign I might have missed...Oh, Miss Wimberley..." she turned back fully to the piano and pressed down on a low key. "I'm sure you would have loved him. He was a sweet boy. Never made a fuss. Always did what he was told as a boy...When James and I fought, he'd stay quiet and go to his room...do his homework, practice his lessons..."

"Those were the warning signs..." Evelyn whispered to herself.

"I'm sorry?" She looked up. "I didn't catch that."

Evelyn groaned as she slid from the couch and grabbed her coat off the rack. "I'm sorry, but I need to go..." Her voice was breaking again.

Veronica stood. "But you've only just gotten here."

"I'm sorry. I just really need to go."

"No, wait please." She reached out. When Evelyn turned and watched her, the desperation clear on her face, Veronica tried to smile it off as she took a seat on the couch. "Please, come back to me, darling, and tell me why you seem to upset, hmm?"

Evelyn hugged the coat to her body and slowly made her way back over, glad that she could walk without a limp anymore, otherwise she'd have to explain more than she wanted. She sat at the chair beside her, and slouched over, wondering how to bring up what it was she felt.

"Umm...Miss Veronica..." she started. "Umm...if you were in love with someone, and it was impossible to be with that someone...how far would you go to make sure you could be together?"

She didn't know if she could help, but it didn't hurt to try.

Veronica thought a moment and fiddled with a handkerchief in her lap. "Oh...well let's see...umm...I'm not sure about what I would do...but love...it's...Hmm...Well, let me tell you a story." She got herself situated.

"I do remember when I was about your age, I was head over heels for one of my old classmates. He played the guitar, he had a wonderful singing voice, and he was in all essence of the word "groovy" as we used to say back then." She tried to laugh, but it died down fairly quickly. She cleared her throat. "My mother and father never approved of him, always saying he would never support me with his silly dreams of wanting to play in a band and never getting a real job. Back then we were all against corporate establishment, the government, we thought all you needed was love."

Evelyn leaned in.

"But," she sighed, "I woke up one morning and realized my parents were absolutely right. We graduated, and the real world gave me a nasty wake up call. Love can't pay rent, love can't pay bills, love can't buy you medicine when you're sick...I tried to talk to him about it—back then women didn't make enough money like men did, so it was very hard on me, you understand. I talked to him about getting a job, and each time I did, he'd give me the speech of how he'd rather be dead than work for "the man" and how all he needed was his guitar and his friends to get by in life. I just couldn't stay with him anymore. I loved him, yes, I cared a lot about him, but the truth of the matter was that he wasn't growing up. He didn't have parents who wanted him out after graduation like I did. His parents doted on him a lot, so he just wasn't getting the wake up call he needed."

"So, what happened?"

"I left him. I met my next boyfriend, Richard, and I moved with him to Buffalo where I lived very comfortably with his extra income coming in. I met his friends, and after him came Charles, after him came Bernard, and finally after him came James."

"Did you love all of them?"

"To a degree, but your first love will always mean something more the older you get, dear. I loved him very much, but I couldn't stay with him. It would have hurt me in the long run. My younger self would hate me forever if she heard me say this but it's true: love can't conquer everything."

Evelyn's throat went dry.

"The real world and what happens in it is just too overbearing for such a thing. It's a good feeling when you have it, but in the end..." she trailed off, not knowing what else to say. "I don't know."

Evelyn nodded. "I understand..." She stood. "I have to go now..."

Veronica frowned. "Oh...alright, dear...please feel better soon. You have such a pretty face, it looks better with a smile."

"Thank you, ma'am..." She turned and walked to the other side of the room without a goodbye hug, but stopped by the archway when Veronica spoke again.

"And call me, will you, darling?" She took a step after her. "Whenever you get home and you're safe...Just call me."

Evelyn bit her lip, and before she took another step out, she pivoted back toward the woman and ran straight for her, holding her tight as she dug her head into her chest, feeling it was just what she needed, from someone, anyone. Veronica, taken back only slightly, wrapped her arms around her friend and held her in a soft embrace.

"Yes ma'am," she finally said, her voice a bit broken. "I will."

And Veronica couldn't put her finger on it just yet, but when she stood there, holding Evelyn the way she was, it brought her back to earlier times when Niles would run into her arms and tell her he loved her. The gumball machine dipped in her posture as she held the snow globe tighter in her grasp, and she softly pet the back of her head while humming a soft lullaby, all in the hopes it would comfort her with whatever it was she was feeling.

* * *

><p>The radio by Benson's bedside was playing on low volume that night, and he couldn't be happier with the tune of choice from his oldies station.<p>

_We'll put out to sea_  
><em>And we'll perfect our chemistry<em>  
><em>By and by we'll defy a little bit of gravity<em>  
><em>Afternoon delight<em>  
><em>Cocktails and moonlit nights<em>  
><em>That dreamy look in your eye<em>  
><em>Give me a tropical contact high<em>  
><em>Way down in Kokomo<em>

He folded another shirt and packed it away in his suitcase, humming along to the Beach Boys while he did so. His luggage already half full, he moved on to putting in some extra shorts, books, and a tub of sunscreen before filling in the last quarter of space with a few of his more sentimental treasures. Included was the group photo of the groundskeepers from last summer, and he had to admit even though they had caused him a great deal of stress the past couple years, he would miss them dearly. He made a mental note to keep in contact with them in some form or another and gently set the picture frame inside. Following that was his favorite toy from his childhood, an old train car his father gave him for Christmas, as well as a coffee mug from his friend Dave before his death and the flower power bracelet Veronica made for him before she left. It was true some of these things brought him a great deal of sadness, but he couldn't bear to part with them, and he never would. He fit them inside, and secured them among his clothes.

There was only enough space left for one more thing. As tiny pieces of hail began to come down on his windowpane, the radio fading out to a static-kissed commercial break, Benson smiled, knowing exactly what that one thing was going to be.

He stepped into his closet and pulled the overhead string, searching the top shelf for his most priceless possession. He brought out a foldout stool and boosted himself up where he reached in the farthest corner of the top shelf to bring out a small wooden box with a yellow rose engraved on the cover. Below the rose was the name Carol. He smiled with a deep sense of grief, running a finger over the dusted name and realizing just how much he missed his mother. He hadn't seen this box in years, the last time being a few years prior when he pulled it out while spring-cleaning. He didn't open it then, but tonight, after setting it lovingly between his socks and dress shirts, he flipped open the lid and read the letter set on top of a few of Benson's old baby things.

_To my darling son,_

_It is no secret that I thank God every day for bringing you into my life. Even in my illness I can still remember that cold morning in May when Jonathan and I opened the door and found our little gumball machine wrapped up in newspapers on our doorstep. It was so hard, Benson, and you know the obstacles we overcame to keep you in our family, but I would do it all over again if it meant I could feel that same joy twice over from just having you grace my life with your presence. Benny, you have made your father's life rich, and you've made my fulfilled. You're so young and full of so much potential, it brings tears to my eyes thinking of everything you can accomplish, of all the good you can bring to the world. You've made our dreams come true, Benny, and now it's time to pursue your own. Never forget we will be watching over you wherever you go, and whenever you feel lost or scared, no matter how old you are, remember you're still our baby, and we will always love you, no matter where we might be._

_Your loving mother, Carol_

Benson closed the lid and wiped the tears from his eyes.

* * *

><p>Evelyn was glad she went back to hug Veronica, and not just for the sake of her peace of mind either. In the extra time it took to run back into the parlor room and hold her in her arms, the coming hailstorm kicked up outside, and Evelyn was safe from the falling ice. Upon her final departure from the estate, Veronica handed over an umbrella and told her to be careful walking home, as she was worried over her wellbeing. Evelyn nodded and went on her way, taking the longer route to the bus stop to clear her mind of so many darkening thoughts that wouldn't keep away.<p>

I don't want to go home, she'd tell herself. I'm scared. I don't want to go...

But where else could she go?

Upon arriving at the bus stop downtown, Evelyn took a seat on the wet bench and sniffed back a few tears trying to make their way out. It was so dark and cold, and the bus coming to take her home wouldn't be there for another half hour. She tightened her grip on the umbrella and wished she'd brought a heavier coat as she hunched over in the freezing air. As the small shards of ice pelted the tiny shelter above her head, Evelyn closed her eyes and prayed for anything to happen, anything at all to get her out of her mind.

And then something miraculous happened. She heard an angel.

No, not one angel, but several.

And they sang.

_In nomine patris, patris_  
><em>Amen, amen<em>

Beautifully.

Evelyn tilted her head to the direction of the music, and she found that nestled on a grassy knoll behind her was a small and humble church. An illuminated sign out front told her in stenciled lettering there would be a play the following evening and run through the weekend. That Thursday night would be a rehearsal.

_In nomine patris, patris_  
><em>Amen, amen<em>

Muffled applause from maybe four, five people? It seemed good enough.

She stood up from the bench, her fingers gripping the cold metal of the umbrella. She'd never considered seeking help from something so based on openness and community, but where there were artists, there would be someone who might understand her. And at least that night there would be actors. Maybe some with answers.

The hail continued to rain upon her as she made her way carefully up the stone steps of the church, already feeling the soft caress of a warm air that drifted out from its open door. How welcoming, she thought.

She stepped through the door and walked a little ways in before staring out at the people on stage. The church was dark, but they shone. They were dressed in long white cloaks, and a heavenly light illuminated them to the several silhouettes Evelyn saw scattered in the pews. She smiled and took another step in.

But soon the angelic choir of sopranos and alto transitioned into a demonic rhythm of bass and tenor. Evelyn stopped and frowned when the angelic glow of the light dimmed, and a red light shone beneath them, cascading monstrous shadows along their faces as they glared out to the audience—to her. They men chanted something borderline horrifying in Latin, and the women raised their arms in the air in passionate anger as they sang.

_"Hate the sinner—hate the sin! We're created in His image!"_

She took a step back.

_"Abomination!"_

Another.

_"Abomination!"_

And another.

_"Abomination!"_

She turned.

_"Abomination!"_

And she fled.

No one noticed the small snow globe running like mad from the church. But she did. She ran far, far away from that place, away from the judgmental glares of everyone around her, away from the bench now empty without her presence to warm it. She tried to escape the haunting memories of her past that wouldn't stop flashing before her eyes. The shelters she'd gone to with Ken—the cruel names she'd be called—the fear—the rejection—the hurt—the lies—a horn blared; she screamed.

"Get out of the road you fucking idiot!"

She skidded on the sleet-covered tar of the road and darted from the headlights that momentarily blinded her. Her panting mixed with the shouts and concerns of the pedestrians who saw her, but she refused to stop. She'd never stop, not for anyone. She could only keep running, her umbrella now gone—blown away in the wind as pieces of ice began to pelt her glass. She pulled her hood up and ran faster, crying and heaving as she went as far as she could as fast as she could, running several blocks north, several blocks east, until she found herself racing up the steps to the main building of her college. Throwing open the wooden doors, she claimed her own sanctuary and made her way inside, slamming them closed behind her in an effort to keep out the demons pursing her. She gasped for air, and her uneven breaths echoed in the chamber along with the slamming of the doors. Then it died down as Evelyn calmed herself against it, sinking to her knees, her hands still grasping the knob. It all became silent.

It took her several minutes to regain her energy. In the haunting silence of her sanctuary, she concentrated on her breathing as she rested her head against the wood of the door. She swallowed hard, no spit left in her dry mouth, but she still tried all the same. She panted softly as she finally turned her head and looked over at the center of the lobby. Despite the darkness, she could see most of it clearly. The usual beam of golden light that cascaded from the dome was now a deep blue with the storm, and the shadows danced across the spider web made from the panels, shadows dancing from the ice that fell onto the glass.

Evelyn pulled herself to her feet and lowered her hood, taking a few hesitant steps before she emerged fully into the moonlight, taking her place at the center of the web and staring up the ten-storied column framed by the massive, spiral staircase. The sound of falling hail was faint. It matched her breathing.

"Papa..." she whispered.

There was a slight pause before she sank back onto her knees and cupped her hands together, continuing to stare up into the dome as if in silent prayer. "Oh Papa, where are you? Why did you leave me here? I feel alone, and I'm lost, and I don't know where to go..."

Her voice echoed around her, and she shivered. It frightened her.

"Oh Papa, you said you loved me, didn't you? You promised you'd always be there for me whenever I needed you. I need you now, so please, let me know you're there..."

When nothing happened, Evelyn sighed and leaned down on the floor, resting on her side as she curled into the fetal position, her hands still cupped to her chest in prayer. "Please, Papa," she cried in a breaking voice, "there are so many monsters. I need you to be here beside me. To protect me...Tell me what to do...Tell me where to go…Who to talk to…What to listen for...Which lies I can believe in...I'll listen...I'll listen..."

The hail continued to patter against the glass. A few of her tears dripped onto the tiled floor.

"I'm so scared, Papa...Please, save me...Please, tell me what to do...I need you, Papa...I need you."

I need you.


	24. Answer Me

It was late that Friday afternoon, and the clouds were just as dark as they were the day before. A stuffed rabbit in a Santa hat sat beside a pack of cigarettes on the drug store counter, and Ken tapped his foot in front of them, staring into the dead, beaded eyes of the doll he was about to purchase. The cashier was gone, somewhere in the back with another patron while he waited by the register, fidgeting and trying not to look around too much. The Christmas decorations strung up around the place haunted him in a way that scared him. The gingerbread houses, the peppermints, the snow. A rocking horse stared at him from a display window, and a shiver ran up his spine. He wished she'd hurry back soon. There was a blizzard coming after all, and he didn't want to be caught in it.

* * *

><p>Ken returned home a little later than he planned to.<p>

Ever since yesterday when Evelyn failed to come home, he'd been much more weary about letting her out of his sight. He went out searching for her the night before on Thursday and found her lying in the lobby of her art building, staring off into a void and muttering to herself, which terrified him. He held and shushed her, told her everything would be okay, and proceeded to wrap his coat around her before carrying her back to the car. He drove her home and got her situated in bed, falling asleep soon after himself. He hoped she'd get some rest too, but when he awoke the next morning, she was up and about cleaning around the apartment, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary happened the previous day. But judging by those bags under her eyes, he knew she hadn't slept...

_"I've been sick," she told him Friday morning. "I was up all night throwing up. I'm surprised you didn't hear it."_

_"Do you need me to pick you up some medicine when I come home?" he asked, putting on his mechanics uniform._

_"No, it's just nausea. I'll be okay."_

And she said nothing else before going back to her idle cleaning. He kissed her softly on the head and told her to take it easy, and he went to work as usual, still worried over her the rest of his shift.

That evening when he stepped through the door, the first thing he saw was Evelyn in a silk, peach gown lying facedown on the couch, the TV on muted reruns of old sitcoms, and her with a half-empty whiskey bottle hanging by its neck in her grip. Ken sighed and removed his coat, setting it on the rack by the door.

"Evelyn, what have I told you about getting into my liquor cabinet?" he said. "I know you've only done it a few times, but you don't need to be drinking that stuff. It's not good for you—especially if you've been having nausea."

But Evelyn continued to be silent. He glanced her way when she didn't answer and sighed again, walking over to turn off the T.V. and take the bottle from her hand. "C'mon, Ev, get up, now. It's time to take your medicine." He inspected the bottle. "Not supposed to take it with this stuff, but I'm sure it won't be too bad..."

She remained still at his words, and Ken frowned, looking back down at her with concern.

"Ev?"

He knelt over and nudged her shoulder, and when her body moved, he noticed the empty bottle of pills beside her pillow and all of her medication completely gone. His heart froze over in a searing heat that dropped to his stomach, and in a quick motion, tossed the bottle on the coffee table and dragged her from the couch, flipping her onto her back and cradling her limp body in his arms. A trail of saliva dripped out the side of her mouth, and Ken began to breathe hard.

"Oh God—Ev, Evelyn!" he shouted, trying to balance her head. "God—what did you do, Evelyn—what did you do?"

The snow globe wouldn't budge.

Ken began to hyperventilate and in a panic reached for the phone to call an ambulance. His shaking thumb barely dialed the first number when Evelyn began to snicker in his lap. He looked down, confused, his arms still shaking.

"Got you," she sang in a hushed tone, her eyes barely peeking open.

"Wh-what?"

He sat her up and she giggled, her shoulders slouching, before she stared up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

"I played a trick on you," she sang again and lazily poked his nose. "I'm funny..." She snorted.

"The hell are you—" He smelled her breathe. "Oh Christ, Ev, you smell like a fucking bar—where's your medicine?"

"Mmm," she rocked back and forth on her bottom, holding her ankles in front of her and smiling as she did. "The bathroom I think."

He grabbed the empty bottle from the couch and held it in front of her. "The pills, Evelyn. Tell me, where are the pills?"

She snickered, and he gave her head a shake. "I tossed em...one by one...into the sink, I did, but I think some landed on the floor—"

"You did what? Wh-wha...Well, what'd you do that for? And why'd you do this? Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?" He looked over at the whiskey bottle on the table and picked it up to inspect it. "How much did you drink?"

She stared up at the ceiling and counted on her fingers. "One glass…then another...then another…then a bottle…" She giggled. "I know, I know, had a lot. I'm a mess." She laughed and hiccupped, using his shoulders to balance herself as she hoisted herself up and staggered towards the kitchen. "I'm gonna get myself a peach because it matches my gown—you should eat a walnut because—"

"Evelyn!" he shouted, standing up. She turned to look at him, still clearly out of it as she rested her shoulder against the frame to the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"I want to know right now what the hell you were thinking pulling something like this!"

She smiled and swayed her hips, humming to a song in her head as her slurred speech took over again.

"It was just a joke, sugar; you need to learn to have yourself a sense a humor, kid."

"Oh, you're gonna be Fanny Brice now?"

"Yeah—how's my Yiddish?"

"That's just great." He sat the bottle back down on the coffee table as she swayed her way over to him. "I don't have the time to deal with this right now, Ev."

"You're upset, I know. I know. I-I should sing for you."

"No. I'm not in the mood."

But she hummed and did it anyway, clinging to him for support. "_Chin up high, keep your powder dry, don't relax or go to far. Look, the moon is gonna shine til dawn—_" a toothy grin appeared on her face, "_I'm gonna keep my little rowboat cruising on and on—_"

"Oh, are you now?" He took hold of her.

"_I'll stay per-pen-dic-u-lar..._" she traced a finger on his chest and stared at it in thought. "Oh...what's the rest..."

"Rest is what you need..."

"Oh that's right." She chuckled and pushed away from him slightly. "I slept with someone."

"Mack the knife?"

She bit her lower lip and shook her head, the grin still wide on her face.

"No, someone else."

"Oh." He was mildly intrigued, even though he had a strong feeling of what her answer would be. "And who's that?"

She waited a moment to lick her lip before answering. "Mm, Benson."

"Really?" He gripped her arms tighter, but she didn't seem to notice. She only nodded and giggled some more, her knees buckling slightly.

"We did it four whole times, if you can believe that." She snickered again as Ken's knuckles turned white. "Wow, four whole times—!"

And in one, fluid motion he sent a strong backhand across her cheek that sent a few feet away where she ultimately lost her balance and fell along the end table.

Ken stepped over to her, quite overbearing with held back rage, as he straddled her.

"You think you're being cute? Huh? Do you?" His lip twitched when he spoke, and in all her years of being with him, she learned a type of conditioned response to this. It was a precursor more of his physical abuse, so like a wounded pup, Evelyn backed to the wall in tears and huddled against the wallpaper where she began to whimper, hugging her knees as close as she could to her body in fear of him.

Ken only stood there a moment and watched her. It was only a few seconds that he did, but they felt longer. His anger simmered down when he saw how she wept, and when his eyes glanced over at the plastic bag still left on the floor, his breathing calmed. As Evelyn cried more, Ken slowly approached the bag and picked it up, removing the stuffed rabbit from its contents and looked back at his companion, a kind of forced softness now replacing his earlier malice.

"Here, Evelyn..." he said in a sweeter tone as he knelt before her. "I got this for you…"

She lifted her head and glanced at him before she stared down into the eyes of the doll. Her expression unmoving, lips not even quivering, she carefully removed it from Ken's grasp and hugged it to her chest, staring off to the side like a child. Relieved that she accepted it, Ken forced a smile and rubbed her hat around on her head.

"There, see? All better now."

The snow globe glanced up at him as Ken got up and made his way into the kitchen. The table was over-flooded with liquor bottles, and after letting out a heavy, aggravated sigh, he got to work trying to clean it all up.

"Jesus...where'd all this even come from?" he asked. "Half of these aren't even mine."

"From a friend..." Evelyn said quietly, petting the rabbit's ears. "He came by like I asked..."

"He?" Ken looked back at her in the other room and it registered with him. "Oh...it was that old gumball machine wasn't it?"

Evelyn said nothing even though she knew his assumptions were wrong. Truth was it was a blue jay.

"I knew it," he continued from the kitchen, swiping up another bottle. "I knew he was bad for you, Ev. Buying minors alcohol, letting you do whatever while he ran off, not minding at all how you were doing...and you're dumb enough to take it from him too, aren't you? Come to think of it, I'm starting to wonder: was he the one who put you up to that little O.D. stunt of yours?"

She shook her head as slow as she could. "No...Me..."

Ken waved her off and stored more bottles in the cabinets. "There just isn't any use speaking to you like this is there?" He went back to collect more. "Common sense just goes over your head all on its own doesn't it?"

Evelyn got to her knees and stood up along the wall before sauntering over to the kitchen's doorframe. As Ken mumbled on to himself about her wellbeing, she clung to the frame and let the stuffed rabbit fall from her grip.

"I'm leaving you..." she said.

Ken said nothing in retort but instead continued to clean. Evelyn swallowed hard and followed him with her gaze, a bit of sobriety coming back to her eyes.

"Didn't you hear me?" she said a little louder. "I said I'm leaving you—"

"No you're not," Ken said. "You're staying right here where I can keep an eye on you."

The sound of clanking glass filled her head and she shut her eyes and took another deep breath. "No...I said I'm leaving you—"

"Shut up." Ken glared up at her and took one step over. "Say that one more time, Evelyn. I dare you. Say it one more time, go ahead, and I'll—"

"Twist me?" she said in a cold tone.

Ken's muscles shook beneath his skin as he locked eyes with hers in a heated glare. It only broke when Evelyn hiccupped and turned toward the door, as when she did, Ken advanced on her.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Out."

"Out where? With Jenny? Gonna give her some more skating lessons are you?" When she didn't say anything, he marched toward her and grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer to whisper in her ear. "I really hope he was worth you—"

"Worth me he is." She interrupted and pulled her arm away from him. She fell back into the door where she immediately swung it open and stumbled out into the hallway, while at the same time, in the unit across from theirs, an elderly couple was on their way out to run errands. They stopped in their tracks to gander at the scene unfolding before them, and Evelyn nodded to them, attempting to take a determined step toward the staircase when Ken came up behind her grabbed her around the waist, throwing her back inside.

"Get back in there," he said over her grunts. "You're not leaving this apartment until I say you can—you understand me?" He wiped his mouth on his wrist and glanced over at the two others a few feet away. He nodded in due respect and stepped back inside when he heard the old woman speak.

"Poor boy..." she said as Ken shut the door. "Bless his soul for taking that thing in and trying to look after her—"

The door shut and Ken had to take in a moment to breathe.

Evelyn tried as well, but didn't have such luck.

"A thing?" she said softly to him. "I'm a thing?"

"You know how those two are, Ev..."

"That's all I am to any of you, aren't I? A thing?"

"Oh, for the love of—I'm not dealing with this shit right now." He shoved himself off the door and headed for the bedroom. Evelyn crossed her arms and stared him down.

"Well that's just typical of you, isn't it? I swear...if my Papa were here, he wouldn't—"

"Oh God, Ev—enough!" He turned and violently kicked over the coffee table, the crashing of the whiskey bottle and knick-knacks on it sending a wave of mild panic down her spine. She stared up at him, trying not to show fear as he continued. "Jesus tap-dancing Christ, I'm sick to death of you bitching and moaning about your damn Papa! Every single time something doesn't go right for you, that's all you do: whine and whine about how he wouldn't treat you that way, and then you cry about it for days on end, embarrassing the shit out of me in front of everyone, and well, goddamnit, Evelyn, enough's enough!"

"Well it's true!" she defended. "My Papa wouldn't let any of you treat me this way! He'd never in a million years let any of you get away with talking to me like this!"

"Oh God, are you really that stupid?" he spat.

"What?"

"You heard me. You think your Papa cared one way or another about how you feel?"

"He did—"

"He did not!"

"You wouldn't know, you son of a bitch—you didn't know him like I did!"

"I know that he sold you to a bunch of horny old men like he did those other girls—yeah, sure, sounds like great father of the year material to me—and damnit Evelyn, he wasn't even your real father anyway, so stop fucking acting like he's the central star of the damn universe—!"

"I'm—"

"Evelyn, I told you to keep your mouth shut, an you better damn well do it. One more word about that man, and I'll make you regret it."

Evelyn huffed and followed him into the kitchen when he stormed away from their conversation. She had to use the frame for balance again, but she was still strong-willed in spirit.

"Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"The only sane one around here, that's for sure." He began to empty out some of the alcohol into the drain, thinking it a better idea to get that poison out of her reach. He scoffed. "I don't believe this...getting a gumball machine to get your liquor—I swear the next time I see him—"

"You won't lay a finger on him!"

"Why? Gonna tattle to your Papa?"

"Don't you bring him into this."

"You already did, so why the hell can't I?"

"Because he's my Papa—not yours—mine!"

"Oh knock it off, Evelyn!"

"I will not—you brought him up, not me!"

"Then at least admit to me that he wasn't your fucking dad!"

"I won't!"

"Admit it!"

"He's my real Papa, and that ain't a lie!"

"Spare me. You're only saying that because your real parents never came back for you—"

"Shut up, Ken!"

"Why? Because I'm pinching a nerve? Well by all means, go run along to Daddy and tell him I'm being mean. Oh that's right—you can't because the bastard killed himself in prison where people like him belong."

Tears began to well up in her eyes that she couldn't stop. "Don't you say that—don't you ever, ever say that to me again!"

"The only reason you have it set up in your fucked up little head that he's your Papa is because you're in denial. Well wake up and smell the fucking Dramamine, Evelyn, we were both abandoned; our parents didn't want us! Why else would they not come back for us? Because we're both so completely out of our fucking minds that's why—and that was straight from my Daddy's mouth himself before I shot that bastard in the head."

"Oh, some great, upstanding guy you are then! That wasn't what you told me the night you were fucking crying about it!"

Ken marched back over and grabbed her mouth. He leaned in with a low tone. "Now I'm gonna tell you something, and I'm gonna tell you that right now. I don't regret putting a bullet in his head, my mother's head, or anyone else who's fucked me over my whole life, and don't you dare think for one minute you're any kind of exception." He shoved her from him, but kept an eye on her as she rubbed her chin.

"Oh fuck you. If you wanted to, you'd have done it already."

"Don't push me, Evelyn!"

"Why, am I pinching a nerve?"

"I said don't push me!"

"Then do it!"

"Evelyn!"

"Do it!"

At the breaking point of his rage, Ken reached back out and grabbed her head before slamming her hard into the wall beside their bedroom. She cried on contact and held her head as the snow flurry stirred inside her. Ken took a step back to flick his wrist and watch her as she slid down to the floor, holding her head in pain. He said nothing while he put some distance between them, afraid he might snap and do it again if she said anything else to provoke him. He heard her sniffs and coughs, and he kept his eyes on her.

She sniffed as she tried to stand, mildly dizzy from the impact. "O-Ow..." She sniffed again. "P...Papa..."

Ken bit the inside of his mouth to keep his nerves down. That name was haunting him, and it only got worse as these episodes dragged on, but still he tried, "What did I just get through telling you about talking about him?"

"I want my Papa!"

"Why?" he shouted with tears in his own eyes. "Goddamnit! Why do you always want him? Why are you always crying for him? The man had dozens of girls just like you! He brainwashed every last one of them and sold all of you to men who'd pay to fuck you and leave—why—why do you still think he's this amazing guy when he lied and did all those things to you and those other girls, huh—Why?"

She felt herself snap.

"Because I was his favorite!" she shouted.

Ken's face fell.

And then silence.

* * *

><p>Benson stood by his car at the rink, alone in the spotlight of one of the streetlamps of the parking lot as he continued to wait for Evelyn. Flowers and muffin basket in hand, he checked his watch again. 9:39pm. She still wasn't there, and by now he was beginning to worry...<p>

* * *

><p>Evelyn panted slightly as Ken stepped away from her. As he did, his face displayed an array of emotions: confusion, irritation, sympathy, but above all, disgust. He didn't know what to say to her. What could he say?<p>

"You're...you're not serious—?"

"Of course I'm serious!" she shouted. "Damnit, if you want me to say it, then I'll fucking say it. I'm not a fucking idiot, Ken! Of course I've known; I've always known, and I don't care what any of you think anymore—my Papa loved me—he loved me—and he took care of me! He gave me the affection I needed that I sure as hell never got from any of you—!"

"Eve—"

"Shut up!" She kicked at the wall in frustration before pressing herself against it for support, rubbing her forehead on her arms. She sniffed back her sobs, her words muffled as she spoke into the wall. "You don't understand. None of you understand." She gasped back another cry. "I wasn't just another thing to him. I was his Little Evelyn, his baby, and those men who would come into my room and force themselves on me, they'd leave and I'd never see them again." She sniffed. "But Papa?" She looked up at him. "He'd come back, Ken. He always came back. He loved me enough to come back."

"He came back because you were a product to him—"

"He came back because I was his baby!" she shouted, holding onto herself. "And you wanna know something, Ken? I don't care if he's the one sold me; I don't care that he's the one who gave those men the key to my room! He always came back and made me feel wanted and protected—that my life had more worth than what some old man would pay for me!"

He watched as she took a breath and bit her lip, crossing her arms tighter across her chest, as if holding herself from toppling over. She sniffed a few more times to keep herself from crying.

"He loved me, Ken...He loved me." She glared over at him. "Which is more then I can say for any of you other biased, racist, human pigs!"

Ken bit his tongue and looked to the side, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into fists. "I think you've had a little too much to drink, Evelyn..."

"Fuck you, I'm not a child." She rolled from the wall into the bedroom, stumbling over herself as she pulled an empty suitcase from under the bed and began to pack. Ken heard the rummaging and went inside to find her throwing everything from clothes to books to empty beer cans into the luggage case. He narrowed his eyes on her.

"And what the hell are you doing now?"

"Like I said before, I'm leaving you, Ken."

"No you're not."

"Yes, I am." She steadied herself as she threw the half-full ashtray from the bedside into one of the zipper pockets. "Benson and I are going away. He's going to help me, and I'm going to be okay—I'm going to be okay."

Ken grabbed her wrist and yanked her away from the suitcase, pinning her to the wall. "You're not going anywhere."

She struggled against him as tears flowed from her eyes, her knees softly buckling beneath her, and her wrists unmoving as Ken held them above her head. She gasped out in frustration. "He can help me, Ken. He can help me!"

He didn't budge.

"He can help me, just let me go and be with him, please." She took a moment to breathe. "God—please!"

Ken's only response to this was to pull back and punch her as hard as he could in the stomach, letting her double over onto the floor with her mouth wide open in pain but with no sounds to show for it.

He kept himself calm, cool, collected, to the best of his abilities. "No...you're staying here..."

The man took advantage of her immobility and dumped the contents of the suitcase back onto the floor beside her. The dust from the ashtray drifted to her face when it hit the ground, and she closed her eyes, trying to keep from breathing it in. Ken kicked the bag back beneath the bed and stepped over her to the bathroom.

"You'll be fine, Evelyn." He knelt down to pick up a few pills on the tile she left there from earlier and crushed them into a dirty glass he began to fill with water. "You'll be fine, you just need to get your medication refilled is all. We'll go to the pharmacy first thing in the morning."

"But it's not working," she cried, crawling over to the bed. "I-I'm tired of taking it when it's not helping."

"It is helping."

"No it's not." She attempted to pull herself up. "It doesn't help me forget th—"

"It's helping, Evelyn!" He stormed back into the room and lifted her up the rest of the way, not caring how she winced at the dull pain now intensified in her gut. He sat her on the bed and forced the rim of the glass to her lips.

"Drink it."

"No!" She tried to push away, but he held her head back and pinched her nose.

"I said drink it!"

She coughed and gargled the water, trying to spit it out, but she ended up drinking a few good mouthfuls by the time the glass was emptied. When Ken let her go, she bent over onto the floor and coughed, spitting up into a pile of dirty laundry at her hands and feet.

"Wh-why are you doing this to me?" she cried between spouts of gagging. "Wh-why?"

"I just want to help you, Evelyn..."

"But you're killing me!" Her voice began to break. "God, what's happening with you? You've turned into this...this...parasite that won't stop picking and picking at me until—"

"Stop it."

"Don't tell me to—"

"I'll tell you whatever I damn well feel like!"

"Years, Ken. It's been like this for years—"

"I don't fucking care how long it's been! We'll both be fine when this is all over. You're not leaving me, not now, not now; is that understood?" She didn't answer him, and he kicked her back, causing her to scurry to her feet. "Evelyn, did you hear me?"

She spat in his lap and stormed away to the bedroom closet. "I don't need this. I don't need any of this." She pulled out his gym bag and emptied it on the floor where she began to repack with whatever she could pull off the hangers. "I'm leaving you," she said again. "And that's final."

"Right."

"I am."

"Sure you are."

"I am—for Benson."

"Benson." Ken licked his teeth. "Like the two of you would ever work out. He'd never understand you. How do you really think he'd react when he finds out about who you are?"

"He loves me."

"Like hell he does—he doesn't even know you." He stepped forward. "Does he know about Papa? Does he know about these feelings you have for him? You tell me you've known about him, that you don't care...well, I think I see what's going on here, and I think I know what's going on now in that fucked up little head of yours."

"What are you talking about?"

He leaned in to her. "Tell me I'm wrong then, that you're not in love with someone else."

"I'm not."

"Liar," he whispered. "You were drawn to me as a kid because I looked like him—"

Evelyn panicked and shook her head. "No, no..."

"And you were drawn to Benson because he's old like him."

"No, no."

"Tell me I'm wrong, Evelyn." He smacked the duffle bag from her grip and roughly shoved her to the wall. "Go ahead and tell me I'm wrong! Look me in the eye and tell me that every guy you've ever slept with—every guy you've ever had any kind of feelings for—they're all nothing more to you than replacements for your damn Pa—"

"No!" she shouted, holding herself against the bedside table. She fidgeted uncontrollably as she looked at the floor. "It's not true, it's not true anymore—I—I won't feel that way about Papa anymore, not with Benson, not with him—he's going to help me—he'll help me—he'll help me forget, and I—I won't think that way anymore—"

"You're sick..."

She looked up at him as he took a step away from her, feeling very hurt himself at what he'd just drawn from her. The memories began playing through his mind of her, of them together, back when they were happy, back in their rehab days and them living on the streets...but this? It was something he'd never known about her, and all the love he ever felt from her, all the warmth she gave him in bed...it really was a lie now...

"Great..." he said under breath as he turned from her. "Fucking great..."

"Ken?" She stepped forward as he made his way back to the living room.

"First my dad...then my mom, grandma, grandpa, all my friends and now fucking you too, Ev..." He sniffed and tried to keep the tears from fighting through as he put on his jacket. He was in desperate need of a drink now. Or several.

Evelyn staggered to the doorframe of the bedroom, holding it the exact same way she did the other night when Ken dragged her by the scarf to their bed. She called out to him.

"I'm going to be okay, right? Ken? I'm going to be okay, right?"

He zipped up his jacket and glanced her way. "I don't know, Ev..."

She swallowed. "B-But I have to be fine...Ken..." She shook, afraid. "Th-the hospital—the rehab—th-they wouldn't let me go if I wasn't okay, right? Right? It's okay to love Papa like that, right? They wouldn't let me go if I wasn't—"

"I said I don't know." He grabbed for his car keys.

"But they let me go, Ken—that means I'm alright and I'll be okay. I'll be okay, Ken."

"Stop talking, Evelyn."

"They let me go, it means I'm fine— I'll be fine! Tell me I'll be fine!"

"No, they didn't—" he bit his lip. "They didn't let you go..."

"What?"

"I...I paid the nurses to release you early."

Her nails dug into the frame, her voice on the verge of collapsing. "Wh-What...?"

He couldn't bring himself to look at her as he stroked his keys with his thumb. "I...just...I paid them off to give you to me—I had to, Evelyn—you weren't getting any better, and the girls weren't getting along with you—you threw tantrums—you weren't developing—they called you a problem—"

"A problem?" She was on the verge of new tears. "A problem—I'm not…I'm not better...? I-I thought I was better..." Her face scrunched up as she tried to focus on anything but the blurriness of her vision. "No, no, no..."

"I'm sorry..."

"No, no, no...I want to be okay..."

He glanced at her. "You'll be okay, Ev...I promise, and you'll be okay. I took you back then because I loved you, and I can help—"

She jerked her head up and held her arms out to him. "Then come here, and help me—hold me!"

But Ken just stood there frozen.

She hesitated a moment, the only sound in the apartment her shaky breathing.

"Ken...I said help me!" She made her way toward him, but her sudden and quick advancement sent a mild panic along his nerves, and in reflex, Ken lifted his boot and kicked her square in the chest, sending her crashing back into the frame. As she slid down to the floor, her face transforming from confusion to fear to sadness, Ken took another step away from her, and she began to wail hysterically, throwing a tantrum on the carpet of their apartment.

_"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"_ she chanted and kicked her feet against the wall. She cried louder, rolling around and curling into the fetal position, only to curl back out to kick and yell some more._ "I hate you! I hate you! I wanna die! I wanna die!"_

Ken bit his lip, wanting to leave and wanting to just get away from her and be done with it. His friend who years before was his only true companion in the whole world was now this display of ungodly something he didn't want to look at anymore, and seeing her like this, seeing her become this broken shell of a thing, it frightened him, and he didn't know what to do. All he knew is that he wanted to get out and run, but she'd hurt herself if he left now…

Devising a plan, he headed to the closet and began to rummage through it as Evelyn continued to kick around on the floor, screaming and hyperventilating. In her distress, she was unable to hear the sounds of thick, ratting chains being removed from the toolbox.

* * *

><p>He couldn't wait anymore; that just wasn't possible. It was already getting past 10:30, and Evelyn still hadn't shown up. Benson hadn't heard from her since they decided to do this, and his thoughts were going black about possible scenarios of which she could be in trouble. Trying to subdue his growing fears, he dropped the muffins and flowers where he stood at the door and got back into his car to race toward her apartment, praying he'd find something to calm his nerves about where she could be.<p>

But when he arrived outside her home, the first thing he noticed was Ken's car missing from the sidewalk, and while he was relieved Ken wouldn't be there, he was terrified in thinking Evelyn might be with him, wherever that was. It didn't ease his weary feeling either by the time he raced up to her apartment only to find the door slightly ajar and the entire place a complete mess.

It was trashed, everything wasted. Tables were overturned, glass lay broken around the floor, books, magazines, empty bottles were scattered everywhere, and right in front of the bedroom door was Evelyn's beret, left overturned and flat, abandoned.

His heart dropped to his stomach.

"No..."

He raced over and knelt down beside it, grabbing it up in his hands to let his eyes dart over every inch of the fabric in hopes it had some answers as to what had happened to the owner. He stared up into the bedroom so dimly lit from the moonlight seeping in through the blinds, and with the hat still in hand, Benson sprinted over to the bed and threw the sheets to the floor hoping the pillows that remained on the mattress would somehow be Evelyn's sleeping body. But there was no such luck.

He pulled back the shower curtain in the bathroom, checked the closet amidst the heaps of dirty clothes, and he scanned under the bed and out the window, but there wasn't a sign of life anywhere he looked. He tried to remain calm, hoping there was just a misunderstanding in all of this, that Evelyn was safe somewhere with Ken, but her hat in his hands...she never went anywhere without it...

"Eve...Eve..."

He was knocked from his train of thought however when he tripped over a small bookcase near the door that sent stacked folders and sketchbooks tumbling to the floor around him in a flurry of papers and index cards.

Calling it a force of work habit, Benson knelt down and began to slip some of the papers and pictures into some of the sketchbooks by his ankle, and as he did, he noticed a stack of paper-clipped essays jutting out from a manila folder by his foot. He readjusting himself to face it and flipped open the cover to put in another stack of papers, when he saw the first page to a research paper entitled "Glass as Property: The Trafficking of Young Machinery by Evelyn Wimberley" and one line, a quote in the first paragraph, was underlined with a red pen: _There are large segments around the world that like to see these young girls get tortured, and those are usually the hardest to find, despite their popularity_. Beside that in red pen, a check mark and the statement: _Strong voice and excellent use of resources. Great job, A-._

Benson attempted to flip through the pages when something rustled from the kitchen, grabbing his attention. "Hello?" He closed the folder and curled his fingers around Evelyn's hat as he got up and stepped back into the living room where he made his way over to the kitchen. When he stepped through the threshold, the first thing he saw was a mess of scattered liquor bottles and trash, but when he glanced over to the back corner, he saw something that sent a horrifying shiver down his spine.

Evelyn was badly bruised and chained up tight to the water heater.

* * *

><p>Ken took a seat at the bar beside Eli and Greg. Over the shouts of other patrons and the clinking of the glassware, they only had to stare at one another to communicate why he called them there that night. After a moment, with a smirk on his lips, Greg snapped his fingers, and the bar tender brought them their usual round they'd come to call the "Evelyn shots."<p>

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>"Evelyn!"<p>

Benson dashed around the table and fell to his knees in front of her, slamming her hat on the tile as he tried to lift her head and see her face. She had bruises and scratches, and the gown she wore looked more like a dirty rag than anything else.

"Oh God, Evelyn. What happened?"

"Go away," she moaned. "I'm fine."

"No you're not. What happened to you? Are you alright?"

"I said go away." She jerked her head from his grip and continued to stare down at the floor, her whole body in shackles. She sniffed. "Just go away...I don't want you here."

"Ken did this to you, didn't he? Didn't he?"

She said nothing.

"Evelyn!"

She snapped her head up and spat in his face. "I said get out!"

Benson wiped it from his eyes, cursing under his breath while Evelyn stared back down at the floor in anger.

"Evelyn," he looked at her when he was finished. "What was that for?"

She said nothing.

"Evelyn, please, will you look at me?"

"No..."

"Why not?"

"Because..."

"Because why?"

"Because…I don't want you here."

"I'll need another reason than that, Evelyn."

She hesitated a moment. "...My hat."

"Your hat?" He looked down at the hat still shoved to the ground by his fist.

"He took it from me…Ken did."

"Well, I have it here..."

"Can you put it on my head." She paused. "Please?"

Benson held it in his lap and stared at her. "Why do you want it so bad?"

"Because..."

"Because...?"

"Because I'm ugly..." she whispered.

"Ugly?"

She nodded. "Mhm..."

"Evelyn, you're not ugly."

"Yes I am." She sniffled. "I'm ugly without my hat."

"Why would you think something like that?"

"I'm a girl aren't I? Girls are supposed to have hair and be pretty." She sniffed again. "But I'm not..."

Benson cupped one of her cheeks with his free hand and stroked it with his thumb to soothe her. "Evelyn, listen to me. I think you're one of the most beautiful girls I've ever met. Hair or no hair, and that's the honest truth."

She rubbed her cheek in his hand, leaning forward as best she could, despite her arms bound at her sides. "Mmm...but you don't mean that..."

"Yes, I do."

He felt a few hot tears run down from her eye to his hand before she spoke again. "Please, Benson, can I just have my hat back? Please..."

He didn't say anything more as he picked it up from his lap and laid it down gently on her dome. When she felt it there, she looked up at him in full, her face completely drained of life now that he saw it in the light.

"Oh, Evelyn..." he sighed.

"Why are you here...?" she asked, her voice so worn and tired.

"I came for you. You didn't show up. I was scared..."

She smiled at him with a look of pity. "Oh...you're sweet, but...you don't want me, Benson."

"I want you."

She stared into his eyes, a vacant expression adorning her own as her lip fell into a frown. "Do...do you really mean that, Benson? That you want me?"

"Of course I do...More than anything."

"Anything?"

"Mhm."

"In the whole world?"

"In the whole world."

She smiled again. "More than...kittens and puppies and...puddles you can jump in?"

His heart wanted to break listening to what she said in this higher-pitched tone she carried.

"Yes," he said. "More than all that and then some..."

"Mmm..." she stared at the floor and hummed. A silence fell between the two of them as Benson breathed in, noticing her face falling.

"What is it, Evelyn?" he asked.

"My stomach hurts..." she responded.

Benson sat back on his feet and inspected the chains. "Yeah...come on, we need to get you out of this..."

Evelyn only slumped and concentrated on her aching stomach while Benson crawled around to the back of the water heater and began unfastening the chains bound along the pipes. When they fell limp around her body and she was freed, he took her arms and helped her stand, noticing her shaking legs that quivered beneath her body.

"I'm gonna puke..." she said as Benson wrapped his coat around her.

"Don't worry," he said hooking one of her arms across his shoulders. "Everything's going to be fine. You'll see."

"How do you know...?"

"I just do..."

He walked her over to the front door where he kicked it open a little wider and walked her out into the hallway, making sure to shut the door as he went. When he turned, he made eye contact with two elderly people making their way back into their own apartment unit, shopping bags in hand with disgusted looks on their faces.

Benson just nodded and scooped Evelyn higher in his grip. "Come on, then..."

He turned and headed down the stairs with her, and the minute they rounded the corner, he heard the old woman speak.

"Can you believe that?"

"Somewhat. The little glasser should be grateful Kenneth puts a roof over her head, and she does something like this to thank him? Damn trollop."

"Oh, bless that boy. I wouldn't ever waste a breath on one of those things."

"Me neither." A door shut.

"What did they say?" Evelyn whispered under his arm.

Benson stared ahead, focusing on a stain on the stair rail. "Nothing…nothing...Come on," he bit back his own ill feelings and kept her walking down the stairs, "we need to get you home..."

* * *

><p>It took a lot of effort on his part, but Benson was finally able to get her into his car and drive her home to his apartment by the time midnight rolled around. When he got her inside his place, he tossed the keys aside and closed the door with his foot as he still held onto Evelyn for support, her arm still stretched across his shoulders. He panted as he walked her further into the living room.<p>

"Here we are..." he sat her down gently in his armchair and propped her feet up on the footrest. "You stay here. I'll get you something for your stomach; just relax."

As he made his way into the kitchen, Evelyn pulled his coat tighter around her body, still completely out of it by every sense of the word. Only blurred echoes of what the gumball machine did in other room registered with the snow globe, and her head tilted to the side after a few moments, her eyes trailing up the walls of his apartment and settling on the two cat portraits hanging in the room. She had no thoughts on them, nothing to showcase behind her glossy eyes but a blank mind and empty spirit. She felt she hardly cared where she was, and she pulled the coat tighter, feeling colder than she ever had before.

Benson called something to her from the other room, but she couldn't make it out. She moved to the other side of the chair and turned her head again, focusing now on a bookshelf in the corner with several picture frames nestled in between books and ornaments on the shelves. More mumbles came from the kitchen as her body seemed to move on its own, sliding her down from the chair and putting her upright once again. Evelyn tried to keep her balance as she waded over to the bookshelf, holding onto it for support as she stared into the photographs at her eye level. Beyond the thin glass of the first picture frame was Benson, probably around her age in the photo, with a pair of humans behind him on either side—both well dressed and looking proud. Etched on the frame was "Jonathan, Carol, and Benson Price, October 1992."

1992. The year she was born.

She pulled the frame from the shelf and held it firm in her hands as Benson's coat slipped off her body and landed at her heels. Benson emerged from the kitchen a moment later, a little shocked to see her gone from the chair but now standing across the room.

"What are you doing over there?" he asked. When Evelyn didn't respond, he noticed the picture she held that she stared at with a heated concentration. He set down a plate of crackers on the chair-side table and set beside it a glass of ginger ale. "Those were my parents I was telling you about," he said. "That one was taken a couple months before my father died, so I like to keep it in the center."

Evelyn's eyes glanced at the other photos on the shelf, all of which contained pictures of Benson and his family. He smiled in all of them, and so did his mother and father. He looked so happy. They all looked happy.

Her eyes narrowed again on the picture she held, her mind overrunning with hate.

"It's not fair..." she finally said.

Benson could barely hear her as he approached. "Sorry, what was that?"

"It's not fair," she said louder, her voice on the verge of breaking.

"What's not fair? That they died?" He went to place a hand on her shoulder. "Evelyn, you know that's all a part of life—"

"No!" She pulled away from him. "It's not fair that you even had them to begin with!"

"What?"

He was taken back at first by what she said, but then went into complete shock when she threw the picture to the ground and began attacking the shelf in full, forcefully throwing down every picture of Benson and his family, several of them even breaking on the floor. Benson stammered as he tried grabbing her to pull away.

"Let me go!" she shouted at him.

"Evelyn—"

"Gah!" She struggled harder to break herself from him, but it wasn't any use. "Agh! It's not fair! It's not fair!"

"Evelyn, calm down—!"

"No!" She grabbed the closest thing she could find and bit into it as hard as she could—which just so happened to be Benson's wrist. The gumball machine gritted his teeth in pain, small tears seeping from his eyes to match the blood seeping from the wounds where Evelyn's canines punctured him. He let her go as she wished, but she continued to hold firmly to his arm, her teeth locked to him as tight as a vice grip.

Benson bit his lip, trying to pry himself away from her, but the more he resisted, the harder she bit, and he yelled out as blood began to drip onto the carpet. The pain was searing, as hot as Evelyn's tears that slid down her cheeks and fell to his arm as she continued to bite down on him, shaking in whimpers with her eyes shut as tight as they'd go. But the gumball machine couldn't take this anymore, his nerves were frantic on end, and the longer they stayed like this, the more numbing and dull the pain became. He looked around for something—anything to use to help him—when he spotted his old cricket bat sitting up against the wall by the bookshelf.

I'm sorry, he thought as he used his leg to pull it over, taking it up in his good hand and striking her hard against the back with it.

Almost immediately she let him go and cried, curling into a ball and holding her head, as if expecting more beatings to follow. But as soon as he was let go, he tossed the bat aside and moved away from her, holding his bleeding arm in pain and not taking his eyes off her in case she tried anything else.

"Why?" she shouted to seemingly no one between her sobs. "God—Why?"

"Evelyn..." He could feel his heart hanging by a thin string, tears welling up at the sight of her like this. "Evelyn..."

She cried louder. "It's not fair. It's not fair! I wanted birthday parties. I wanted to go to school. I wanted friends. I wanted—I wanted—" She could hardly form words anymore and had to take a moment to cry it out before continuing her shouting. "God, what did I do? What was—what was wrong with me? Why didn't they come for me—didn't they love me? Why didn't you love me, Mama? Mama—Mama!"

"Evelyn, what…?" Benson tried to say between his own sobs. He went back to her to try and hold her. "Evelyn, please—"

"Don't touch me!" She made another move toward him, and Benson's heart raced as he grabbed both her wrists to hold above their heads in an effort to keep her from attacking him again. He pulled them behind her back and hugged her, holding her tight as she struggled against him, kicking at him and squirming trying to break free. He only held her tighter which made her convulsions even worse, and not knowing what else to do, he bit his lip and dragged her over to the closet where he shoved her in and slammed the door behind her. He pressed his body up against it and slid to the floor, tears continuing to drop down as he heard Evelyn inside the room continuing to kick around on the walls and door, her screams still frantic.

"Mama!" she shouted from the other side. "Mama! Mama!" The knob jiggled where she was tried desperately to get out, but Benson's weight against it kept it secure. In the darkness of the confined space, Evelyn yelled out and began pounding and kicking on the door.

_"Why do you lock the door, Papa?"_

Evelyn kicked it again, grunting and sobbing all mixed together.

_"To keep the monsters outside, baby."_

She yelled and threw herself against it, almost breaking her shoulder. She cried out.

_"But they still come in, Papa..."_

She whined, thrusting herself against it once more.

_"Where are you going, Papa..?"_

_"I love you, baby..."_

"Stop it!" She held the sides of her head and sank to the floor where she cried harder on her back, still kicking at the door and convulsing amidst Benson's boxes and coats. She continued to hyperventilate with the flashes of her memories reeling behind her eyes, and she twisted herself around on the floor, breathing hard and whining, "Stop—stop! Make it stop—please—please—_please!_"

"Evelyn..." Benson whispered from outside.

"God! What's wrong with me?" she cried. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? Please, answer me—answer me!"

"Nothing, nothing..." Benson hugged his knees and buried his forehead in his arms to cry.

"Please tell me I'm alright!" she whined to no one. "Please, tell me! Please—answer me! _Answer me_!"

And when nothing else was said, Evelyn broke down and let out her pent up rage, sadness and confusion by destroying, pulling, clawing, and biting at whatever lay in her path. Benson could only continue to sob into his arms, not knowing what to do for her as the night dragged on to early morning.


	25. Past Midnight

The steam that drifted from Mordecai's coffee cup that night matched the frost that fogged up the windows of the café. The music was on low volume overhead, Christmas tunes for the coming season. The holiday was still a few weeks away, but the blue jay had other troubles clouding his mind to get into the spirit of things. So for now, he idly listened. The customers had cleared out long ago, and as the clock ticked into early morning, he sat alone at the table with his coffee while Margaret counted the profits from the day, she herself not used to the graveyard shift. Mordecai was only there that night to walk her home when she closed up, and when she approached him to wipe off the table as a last minute chore, she broke him from his thoughts for conversation.

"How's the coffee?" she asked.

He barely made a glance at her before shrugging his shoulders. "It's okay."

"You seem kind of down. Tired?"

"A little." He took a sip.

She stood up straight, no longer worrying over the table as she eyed him closely, leaning her hip against the edge. "You wanna talk about anything?"

"No, why would I want to talk about anything?"

"Just seems like you're in that kind of mood."

"No. Just tired."

She nodded, not knowing what else to say to him and slowly got up from her place to clean the adjacent tables. Mordecai swirled on his stool to follow her, not really wanting to talk either, but he wanted to watch her.

Margaret heard him turn to watch her, and with her back turned to him, she chimed in again. "So, where do you think they are right now?"

"Who?" Even though he knew of whom she asked about.

"Your boss and Evelyn." She looked to the clock. "They must have left like what...four, five hours ago?"

"Yeah, probably…" He stared down at the drink inside the cup. "They must be halfway across the state by now..."

"Well...good for them."

"Yeah…"

"Bet they're having lots of fun…listening to the radio…looking up at the stars…getting warm with the car heater—stopping for a motel room when Benson gets too tired—"

"Mhm..."

Margaret stopped her cleaning once more and turned to face him, trying to give him a small smile. "Hey, come on..." she said. "I know you're worried, but it'll be okay."

His eyes darted from the cup, then to the robin, then back down to the cup where they stayed with a nervous twitch added to his posture. "Oh, is it that obvious?"

"Just a little."

"Mmm." He took another sip and swiveled back to face the table, leaning over it a bit. "I'm fine, Margaret. I'm just a little scared about what's going to happen, that's all."

"Then talk about it." She walked over to join him, taking a seat beside him. "What's got you so scared? Is it her boyfriend?"

"Sort of," he said, not taking his eyes off the cup. "I just have a bad feeling something's going to happen. Ken's a maniac, sure, and Benson can be so hotheaded sometimes, but I'm just scared he'll want to go after him but come after me instead because I'm affiliated."

"Mordecai, there's no sense in thinking like that."

"Sure there is. I wanted to help him—I wanted to be his friend, and just look where it's gotten me?" He finally got the courage to look at her. "I'm scared to be alone, and I can't talk to Rigby about it because he's always gone with Eileen, and no one else..." he sighed and hung his head in his wings on the table. "No one gets it."

"Ken won't hurt you, Mordecai."

"It's not just him..." he said. "It's a lot of things..."

Margaret felt the urge to rub her wing on his back, but couldn't bring herself to do it just yet. She slumped. "Mordecai, you need to tell me what's going on if there's something on your mind..."

The blue jay remained silent. The robin scooted closer.

"You said once you were scared that you were going to turn into your boss," she said quietly, "and that's why you wanted to help him, but...I don't know, I guess I'm not good with seeing things that I should be seeing, so...can you just let me know?"

When Mordecai made no advancement to move, Margaret put her wing on his and pushed them away from his face. He didn't fight back, and when his wings hit the table, he saw how she stroked it to comfort him, and it brought Mordecai to look up and gaze into her eyes, unyielding to his fears.

"I was just afraid," he said in a whisper.

"Of what?" Her voice too remained low.

"That I'd turn into him because..."

She saw his hesitation and gripped his wing. "Because why?"

He looked to her. "Because I could never get the girl I wanted."

"But Mordecai, that's—"

"No, Margaret, listen." He turned to face her more directly. "I'm tired, okay? I'm so sick and tired of watching you go out with guy after guy who doesn't treat you right, who doesn't give you what you need."

"Mordecai—"

"No, listen." He gripped her wing. "I've been waiting so long to say anything like this to you, and I can't let it slip away because I'm scared. That happened to Benson when he was my age, but it's not happening to me." He tightened his grip. "I really, really like you Margaret, and I wish you could see that. I know I must sound like the whiniest guy on the planet right now, but it's who I am, and it's how I feel. I love you, Margaret, and I just...had to...tell you that…" He loosened his grip and turned back to the table.

Margaret only stared at him before slowly turning the face the table too. The clock struck time for closing, but neither of the two birds made a move just yet. A car horn passed outside, and when it did, Margaret glanced over to him at the side.

"If...if it means anything, Mordecai...I'd rather be with someone who's comfortable with their emotional side rather than someone who has to maintain an image."

He said nothing but stared over at her anyway.

"And I mean it," she said.

"So...is Lyle working out for you then?"

"No...We broke up."

A spark of hope.

"Really?" He looked her in the eye. "How come?"

She shrugged with a kind smile. "He wasn't one to tell me how he feels about things."

"Oh." He smiled back. "I'm sorry..."

"Mmm..." She stared up and outside the window. "The snow is pretty tonight, huh?"

"Yeah." But he didn't follow her gaze. "It is."

The robin giggled and leaned over onto him, pressing the side of her face to his shoulder. "Thanks for telling me that, Mordecai. I appreciate it."

He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. "Yeah...Anytime…"

The snow continued to come down, and the two birds didn't feel like closing up just yet.

* * *

><p>Evelyn in any other state of mind would swear she slept, but the fact remained that she hadn't. Curled up in the back corner of Benson's closet, the remnants of torn up boxes and cluttered treasures scattered around her, she blinked with stinging, burning eyes and held desperately to one of his coats she had pulled from its hanger. She found herself resting against an overturned vacuum cleaner, undoubtedly the same one she knocked over and cracked several hours earlier with her violent kicking, and disregarding it, Evelyn rolled over toward the door, taking the coat along with her, soon lying still at the foot of the door and staring over at the flickering, blue bar of light coming in from the gap at the bottom. Her strained eyes glanced up at the darkness above her, and she stretched out her hand to scratch at the door like a cat.<p>

"Benson..." she tried to say, but her throat was so worn from her earlier screaming that it was barely audible. She coughed and cleared her throat, a small flurry stirring up inside her head from the pressure. Wearily, she pushed herself onto her stomach and sat up on her knees, waiting a moment for her dizziness to stop before she wrapped the coat tighter around her ill-dressed body and tried again. There still came no response from the other side.

"Oh...damn..."

Pushing aside more of the debris and wreckage from her previous tantrum, Evelyn scooted over to the side with the doorknob and reached up to jiggle it, curious to see if it were locked or not. In the few times Ken himself had locked her in a closet or inside a bathroom, it was barricaded heavily, but here, it opened rather easily with not so much as a creak. She didn't know just yet if this was a good or bad thing, but all she had on her mind was water.

More flicking light flooded into the small room, and she looked back in to let it sink in just what damage she caused to Benson's belongings. Clothes pulled from the rack, boxes torn apart, papers tossed here and there, and several bottles of cleaner spilled onto the carpet, soaking up Benson's belongings she ripped from their holders. And a rather rancid smelling boot somewhere in the back corner...Her face unchanging, however, she turned to the door again and pulled herself up using the knob and doorframe for support. When she gently nudged the door open a little further, she took a shy step out and looked on at Benson who by that point had retired to his armchair, probably back when Evelyn's rampage had subdued and he figured she had fallen asleep. Now he sat there, reclined low on the cushions, and stared with a vacant, tired expression at the television playing only infomercials on cooking appliances at this late hour. The images flickered in their reflections on his head, and Evelyn gripped the frame, a little weary in her courage.

"Benson?" she asked softly.

The gumball machine continued to stare at the television, completely absent from the scenario. She took another step out of the closet and rested against the wall, noticing her friend had already cleaned up the bookshelf and broken glass she left on the floor of his living room. Half of the pictures that were once there were now gone, and it left a haunting feeling in her gut as she looked back to him. "Benson?" she asked again. "I'm thirsty. Can I please have a glass of water?"

She watched his chest rise with a heavy sigh. "Evelyn, if you want a glass of water, go make one yourself."

A lump formed in her throat and she found herself nodding. "O-okay..."

Benson continued to stare off into space as Evelyn slowly emerged fully from the closet and made her way to the kitchen, stumbling and tripping over herself as she went. She walked slow when she did, holding onto herself to keep from losing balance, but once in a while in her weariness got the better of her and she stumbled over to the wall separating the living room from her destination. She sighed however and kept going. The gumball machine in turn watched her out of his peripheral vision, and when she disappeared behind the wall into the kitchen, he broke his empty glare and looked over at his side where she'd been a moment earlier. He sighed and held his arm in regret.

Once inside the kitchen, Evelyn stood on the tips of her toes trying reach the cabinet of glasses, but even then she could barely open it. She blamed it on her dizziness, and scanning the counter for a clear space, she lifted a leg up onto it and steadied herself before pushing up and balancing herself on her hands and knees on the countertop. She looked up at the door again and got up on her knees, steadying herself on the handle where she opened it and plucked a glass from the shelf. She still felt a tad woozy and was about to climb down when she heard his voice.

"There was a step stool under the sink if you needed it..." Benson said behind her.

Evelyn looked over her shoulder and slowly rotated on her knees to face him, slumping slightly to sit on her bottom, the glass held firm between her hands. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said.

"It's fine..." He walked over and took the glass from her to fill with ice and water. Evelyn watched and scooted up against the wall, glancing over at the motivational calendar when she saw it out of the corner of her eye. When Benson returned, he stood beside her and handed her the glass.

"Here you go," he said.

"It's not September," she noted, taking it from him.

Benson looked where she did. "Oh. Yeah, I haven't really bothered to change it."

"Well...has a nice message though." She put the glass to her mouth and took a sip, curling up to face Benson again as she leaned against the wall.

"So..."

"So?" he asked.

"Umm...I think I threw up in your closet."

He rolled his lips. "Oh..."

She paused. "But...I think I aimed for a rain boot though...and if I didn't, there's some cleaner that got spilled on the floor, so—"

A small smile found its way to his lip, much to her surprise. "No, it's fine," he said. "I can clean it later."

Evelyn smiled when he did but soon ducked her head, a bit ashamed at herself for even trying. She knew she was in a lot of trouble, and couldn't bring herself to look at him again.

"I'm still sorry," she said in a hushed, cracked voice. "I don't mean no harm..."

"I know..."

She shivered slightly like a frightened pup and waited a moment before setting the cup on the countertop. A few drops of water splashed out from the rim and dripped down the side as Benson looked her over.

"You doing okay?"

She shook her head. "No...I think I'm still sick."

"Just stomach, or head too?"

"A little of both..."

He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, and she leaned into it. "Hmm, you do feel a little warm. Is your stomach doing better?"

"I don't know..."

"You're probably just hung-over."

She shook her head. "No, no. I've been feeling like this for a little over a week now."

"Then drinking like that sure wasn't a help." He recalled all the bottles he saw in her apartment and remembered just how thick her breath was laced in alcohol. He winced at the sheer memory of it all. "Evelyn, why were you drunk like that? I thought you told me you didn't drink."

Another thing she felt ashamed to admit.

"I don't, but I was scared."

"Scared of what?"

"About leaving." She shifted around on the countertop. "I-I've heard before that another name for alcohol is liquid courage, and I know when Ken drinks, he feels impenetrable, so I just figured if I could get drunk—even just a little—I wouldn't be so nervous to pack and leave..."

"But that much?"

She could feel tears swell already. "It wasn't working like I wanted to—I still felt terrified. So I had another and another, and before I knew it I had bottles..."

"Well it takes a while for those effects to kick in; don't you know that?" He was beginning to get a stern tone with her, one that he usually saved for Mordecai or Rigby. "God...that was a very stupid and careless thing you did, Evelyn. Don't you know that's how people get alcohol poisoning?"

"I'm sorry..."

"And where was Ken during all this?"

"At work."

"So he just left all his shit lying around for you to get into? That's just great."

"It wasn't hi—s—and stop talking to me like this. I'm not a baby." She hiccupped.

"Well, obvious—" but Benson bit his tongue as not to upset her further, even though it was clear to him leaving alcohol around her like that was pretty much the same as leaving floor polish around a toddler. Either way, he gripped the edge of the counter and leaned back into it, staring down at the floor as he seethed with mild irritation.

"Sorry..." he forced out. "I'm just really upset right now."

"Well you ain't the only one..." She said rather defensively. In her own aggravation, she looked back over at the motivational calendar and without thinking, started ripping and tearing away at the sheets. When he heard the sounds of crumpling paper, Benson looked up at what she was doing and watched as the pages fell like snowflakes to the floor of his apartment.

"What are you doing?"

"It's not September; it's December."

"Do you know what day?"

"Friday."

"No, Saturday," he looked at the floor again, "past midnight..."

Evelyn sniffed and when the extra pages were finally gone, she sat back on her knees and stared at the motivation for Saturday, December 3rd. Her heart felt still.

Benson waited a moment. "Well? What's it say?" he asked calmly.

Evelyn didn't say anything.

In the silence, Benson stared over at her and then followed her gaze to the calendar, reading off: _December 3. Fulfillment. Today is a day of fulfilling your dreams. Grow your wings and reach them by taking flight._

"Easy for a damn sheet of paper to say," Evelyn said with a hiccup. She lifted her arm to wipe her eye and turned back to sit against the wall. Benson in turn bent down to pick up some of the pages that fell to the floor and began gathering them up to toss in the trash. When he stood up, Evelyn leaned over and smacked them out of his hand. He looked at her.

"What was that for?" he shouted.

"Just leave em there; I'll get em."

"No, you're not."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No, I'm telling you you're not doing anything in this house unless I tell you you can, and I'm forbidding you from picking any of that stuff up—I'll take care of it, and that's final."

"I'm not a baby! I made the mess and I can clean it up too!"

"Well too bad, I'm the adult and I said you can't."

"Can too!"

"I said no."

She sniffed. "Just let me do something..."

"Then sit there. You want to do something just sit there and be still." He bent down again to pick up the papers but stopped himself with he heard her sniffling. It was hard to ignore in the silence of the apartment, sirens wailing somewhere in the distance, and with a heavy heart he rose again, dropping any papers he collected back on the floor.

"What?" she asked when she saw him come up. "You gonna say something else?"

He only looked at her, concerned. "Evelyn—"

"What?"

He paused at her slight outburst, but allowed himself not to get short-tempered. "Evelyn...I know I've said before that you don't have to tell me everything about your life, but—"

"But what?"

He paused again and put a hand on her leg to both silence and comfort her. "Listen...I just think you need to tell me something, at least one thing about what happened to you to give me an idea of why...of why..." He didn't know how to finish that statement.

She pushed away his hand and hugged her knees, trying to keep the tears from running. "No."

"Evelyn, please."

"I said no."

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't understand..."

"I can try to."

"No." She sniffed. "It's hard to talk about. It's a part of my life that I really don't want to—"

"Evelyn." He pried one of her hands from around her knee and held it in his own. "Look at me. Right now."

She did.

"I'm right here, Evelyn. Nothing bad is going to happen to you because I'm here. Whatever it was that happened to you, you can tell me. I'm your friend, and this is what I'm here for..."

The snow globe bit her lip and looked at her hand in his, limp where he held her wrist.

Her voice cracked again. "I just can't say it..."

"Then find a way to tell me..."

Another siren flew by outside when Evelyn took a steady breath and pulled her arm away from him. She placed her index finger on the counter between them and after another good, few breaths did she begin to trace a letter.

"R..." Benson read.

She took another breath and did it again.

"A..."

There was a short pause before the next one.

"P..." Benson was starting to get an idea.

As soon as she made the motion of drawing out the final letter, Benson knew exactly what it was. He gripped her wrist tight to keep it from moving, and without looking her in the eye, he asked, "How many times, Evelyn...?"

With tears flowing down her cheeks, her shaking hand traced a large question mark on the surface of the counter before retreating back and holding her knee once more.

Benson's throat felt dry, and although he tried to bring himself to look her in the eye, he just couldn't. He wanted to regret getting short with her earlier; he wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. But all he could do was make up questions inside his head, things he wanted to know, things he never knew before. He didn't know where to start, so he just blurted out the first that came to mind.

"Did Ken ever rape you?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Has he ever tried?"

She closed her eyes tight and shook her head vigorously. "No, he loves me—Ken loves me."

"You won't sleep with him because he scares you—"

"He loves me."

"Evelyn."

"He just terrifies me sometimes." Another sniff. "He loves me, Benson. He'd never do that—not to me, not to me—he'd never—"

"Who are you trying to convince?"

She shut her mouth after that and buried her face back into her legs.

Benson bit the inside of his cheek and leaned against the counter, staring down at his arms. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't tell you." Her voice was so muffled it was hard to make out her words. "I'm so embarrassed..."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about...it wasn't your fault—Evelyn," he stepped over to her, "it wasn't your fault."

Her body shuddered in her sobs, and Benson said no more to let her ease out of this okay. He held his arms and looked around the kitchen, noticing the glass of ginger ale and plate of crackers he made for her hours earlier. He glanced back over to her.

"A-Are you hungry?"

She sniffed and tilted her head up, wiping her eyes with her wrist. "What?"

"I asked if you were hungry..."

With a dry throat she nodded and gasped back another sob. "Mhm."

"Here." Benson walked over and grabbed the plate and glass, returning soon after and sat himself on the counter beside her if anything to show he was there to protect her. She pulled back a bit, but when he offered her a cracker, she leaned back over to him, closing the gap between them, but she didn't take the cracker. Benson figured she was just too weak to try, so instead he reached his hand further out, and she bent down and chewed it out of the palm of his hand, he hands cupping his. With his other hand, he pet the back of her head, not knowing what to make of this all, if he could make anything of it at all. When she finished, he brought up the glass of ginger ale and pressed the rim to her lip where she sipped some of it up, which made him happy.

"Thank you," he said when she pulled away.

"Mmm...don't say thank you to me."

"Why not?"

"Just don't..."

Benson put a playful smile on his face, which made Evelyn confused.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing…I just like you."

"Oh...thank you."

"That's it?" he asked, trying to maintain feeling cheerful. "Just a thank you?"

"Well...that and I think you're an idiot."

"An idiot..." He nodded to himself. "That's...kind of mean, don't you think?"

"Oh, yeah...I'm sorry..." she said sincerely. "I didn't mean it that way. I just think you're a fool for being so persistent on something so broken is all."

Now the smile did lower as he looked on at her. "Well, I've been persistent with myself for years..." His voice lowered now too when she looked to him. "So, thank you for noticing that about me…"

He watched as tears dripped down her eyes, but he didn't feel like rubbing away just yet. So instead, he gave her another small smile and wrapped his arms around her waist to pick her up from the counter and set her gently on the kitchen floor where he held her in a soft embrace.

"You'll be okay, Evelyn," he whispered to her. "I'm right here, and I won't let anything hurt you."

* * *

><p>"You good?"<p>

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"I said yeah, didn't I? Fucking...get out of here already—I'm fine."

"Well alright, see you tomorrow, man."

"Yeah, you too."

When the two others finally left him alone at his place, Ken sat down inside his building in an attempt to regain his sobriety before making his way up the stairs to his apartment. He was so dizzy. It was so late. He felt so tired, and even though he sat there by the mailboxes for a good fifteen minutes, it still only aided him slightly in feeling any better. But he knew somewhere those two flights up Evelyn would be waiting. Still chained where he left her to the water heater, probably hurt, maybe even asleep by now...her back would kill her in the morning he figured. He loved her he told himself, so he pulled himself up and grabbed the handrail, his jacket slung over his shoulder as he made his way up to the landing.

But when he got there, he'd be proven wrong by the thick smell of abandonment. The minute he had the door open, he knew she was gone with just one step inside the threshold, an eerie silence coming over him. He knew before he even checked inside the kitchen and saw with his own eyes she wasn't there, and when he touched the chains left behind in a heap by the water heater, he had no idea what to think. She'd gotten out of her restraints somehow and left, out into the city somewhere he was sure. He turned to make an attempt to leave and go find her, but that was out of the question. He was too wasted, and even if he was sober, he didn't even know where to start. Or maybe he would, but his delusions were making him think he wouldn't. Either way, there was no sense in going after her, not right now, not like this, and as he staggered over to the couch to lie down and collect himself, memories of Evelyn wouldn't stop playing through his head.

_"Will you read me Charlotte's Web for my birthday, Kenny?"_

_"How come they won't let you come see me anymore, Kenny?"_

_"Did Papa write me back yet, Kenny?"_

_"I'm hungry, Kenny."_

_"I need to pee, Kenny."_

_"Where are we going, Kenny?"_

_"Kenny?"_

_"Kenny!"_

_"Kenny."_

_"Kenny?"_

_"Ken."_

_They were standing in a wheat field where Evelyn had dragged out a wooden rocking horse from the house behind them. The twelve year old held her hand out, her legs apart in a defensive stance. "I said I want to burn it, Ken." Her tone was low and serious, her eyes narrowing. "Give me the kerosene and matches..."_

"You'll hurt yourself," he mumbled.

Ken found himself sitting up on the couch a moment later, reclined back, his feet up on the coffee table, his boots on either side of a revolver he had placed in the center. The TV was playing nothing but static, he himself too lazy to change the channel and decided to let the white noise drown out his memories. The smoke from his pack of cigarettes he wanted to burn through that night clouded his vision as he lit one after the other, but he didn't care. And in his hand was the stuffed doll Evelyn left behind when she fled. That little rabbit.

_"I said I want to burn it, Ken..."_

"I did it for her, you know..." he said to no one, but maybe the rabbit if he wanted to listen. "I killed them all for her...back when she was little, fourteen years old maybe. Yeah. She made eyes at someone. I don't remember his name or what he looked like, but I caught her, you know? Talking to him. Walking with him at night. She was a little girl you know, and I'd get these…these thoughts that a bunch of them, six or seven of em maybe, would corner her in an alley and gang up on her, pass her around to one other like a…" He cut himself off and ran a clammy hand through his sweat-matted hair. "I had to keep her safe, and I did what I had to do. I don't regret it."

The white noise seemed to fade now.

"Other times," Ken continued, "she'd wander off and come back all on her own. Half those times, I didn't know where she'd been, sometimes for hours, a couple times for days. She'd come home smelling like someone else's skin and her clothes would be cold and dirty, her stomach would growl, and the way she'd look at me…" He took a drag and blew from his nose. "Oh, Ev, you always seem to find your way back to my bed somehow…out of love? No…" A bit of ash fell from the tip of his cigarette to floor. "You just don't have nowhere else to go...do you?"

_"You have nowhere to go, and no one to blame but yourself, Kenneth."_

"Oh, Mom..."

_"Your father and I just don't know where we went wrong with you."_

"Liar, liar..." he smirked.

When the white noise grew louder, the man stared down at the gun on the coffee table. He removed his boots to sit up, placing his feet firmly on the carpet as he stared at the revolver, then to the doll in his hand, then to the revolver, and back to doll. He could hear her giggling in the static, every one of her, that sweet little snow globe of his. The ten year old, the twelve year old, the fifteen year old, the nineteen year old, all of them, giggling. They all laughed at him inside his brain, and in a slow motion, he pressed the rabbit to his temple, the felt nose against his skin, and he pulled at its chest like a trigger.

"Bang..." he whispered.

The laughing stopped.

* * *

><p>Benson knelt down beside the bathtub for a few moments and let his hand soak under the warm, running water, adjusting it accordingly until it was just the right temperature. A few mounds of crystal foam were already beginning to form where he poured in his favorite brand of bubble bath soap into the tub, and while usually he set this up with candles and music for ambiance, he decided against it for safety reasons. Better not to have Evelyn near fire or electronics with water.<p>

The snow globe sat on the toilet seat a few feet away and held herself tight, feeling chilled as she watched him make her bath. When the tub was near full, Benson stood up and made his way over, offering his assistance to help her into it. She accepted, and he walked her over to the edge, steadying her as she stepped into the water, one weary foot at a time. His hands then trailed to her hips where he took hold of the tails of her gown.

"Arms up," he said.

Evelyn weakly held up her arms while Benson lifted the gown up over her head and tossed it into the open hamper by the sink, keeping one hand on her arm to support her. He took both her hands in his and gently knelt with her as she sat down in the water, her naked body, full of old scars and new bruises, disappearing underneath a layer of bubble foam. A look of instant gratification came across her face as she got herself situated.

"This feels nice," she said.

"I told you it would help."

She looked at him and gave him a kind smile, and Benson felt some relief of his own that she was more subdued now. As Evelyn rubbed the water along her arms, he stepped over to sit on the edge of the tub behind her and dipped a rag into the water. He stared at the red gash across her back, the one he made with his bat, and he swallowed hard, trying to erase the lump forming in his throat.

"You'll like this," he said, rubbing a cream onto the rag. "It soothes pain, so..." He pressed the rag to her back and held it there softly. Evelyn sighed, and he did too, smiling himself when he saw a look of satisfaction on her face.

"You look better...What are you thinking about?" he asked her.

She hummed a bit. "Mmm...My Papa."

"Your Papa?"

"Yeah...he used to give me baths like this all the time when I was little."

Benson dipped the rag in the water and scrubbed her gently. "You must really miss him, huh?"

"I do..."

"When's the last time you saw him?"

She breathed in and stretched her legs out. "When I was nine. He tucked me into bed one night, told me he loved me like he always did, read me a story about a pirate, and then he kissed me goodnight before he left my room."

"What happened to him?"

"He went away..."

"He left you?"

She nodded. "Yeah..."

"Oh...I'm sorry, Evelyn."

"It's okay." She breathed in again, trying not to remember that night. The police lights, the crying, the gunshotS. "But I still had Mommy..."

He looked down at her. "Oh. I'm sorry, Evelyn, don't cry."

She nodded and breathed in, blinking back her tears as she began washing her cheeks. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay. We'll talk about something else..."

"Like what?" she asked.

"Like..." he smiled. "You?"

"Me?"

"Yeah." He rinsed the cream off her back. "Like that. Does that feel good?"

"Mmm" she nodded. "Yes, it does. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He took his hand back to let the rag soak in the water while he went to look beneath the sink for something. "And I have something else I think you'll like."

She looked over as he brought out a bottle of glass cleaner and she tilted her head. "What's that?"

"Special brand I use for my head. It cuts away all kinds of scruffs, dirt, smudges, everything really, and leaves it crystal clear." He sat back on the edge of the tub and shook the bottle. "You'll love it."

Evelyn looked a bit weary. "Do I have to take my hat off?"

"Can't clean around it."

She gripped it and shook her head. "Then no."

"Evelyn, it'll make you feel better."

"But my hat—"

"Is just in the way."

"But I'm ugly without my hat."

He sighed. "No you're not; we've been over this."

"Please don't make me take it off," she said. "I don't like it when people can see inside my head..."

Benson looked to her and asked, "Don't you trust me?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then let me see you. Please?"

Her arms shivered a bit, a gulp following, as she slowly pulled her hat down over her face and hugged it to her chest. She went to bow her head in shame of being exposed, but Benson lifted her chin with his knuckle so she would look him in the eye.

"It's beautiful," he said.

Evelyn searched his eyes for any falsehood, but couldn't trace any within them. His voice, his expression, they were sincere, and she calmed down, letting her insecurities fall away. She shifted in the water, causing small waves to lap against the sides of the tub.

"You mean it…?" she whispered.

"Yes, I do."

She smiled as Benson took his hand away to squeeze a glob of ointment onto his palm. He lathered it in his hand before scrubbing it all over her head, using the rag to spread it. Evelyn swayed with his movements, closing her eyes to keep the soap out of them, and she smiled, feeling good with his massage.

"So tell me..." he said.

"Tell you what?"

"You ever thought about who lives in that house in your head?"

She smirked. "It's crossed my mind as a kid..."

"Then who lives there?"

"Two people..." she said slowly. "No...three."

"Three?"

"One's a baby."

"Oh..." he smiled. "So, a family?"

"Yes, and they love each other very much."

"That's good."

"Mhm..."

Benson smiled down at her and rubbed her shoulder. "Okay, hold your breath now."

"For what?"

"To rinse it."

"Oh." Evelyn did as he asked.

He pinched her nose and held the back of her head in his hand to dunk her into the water to wash away the suds. He kept her like that for a moment, rubbing her head with the rag to make sure it all rinsed away, then pulled her back up to breathe. He watched, almost mesmerized, at the snow flurry inside her head and smiled as he reached over for a small towel to scrub her head dry. When he finished, her head was crystal clear as he knew it would be, just as the flurry was dying down. Her gingerbread house and pine tree had a freshly fallen layer of snow upon them, and when she sneezed a moment later, they flicked back into the liquid and sank to the bottom.

"Bless you," he said.

"Thanks." She looked at him. "For everything, Benson..."

"You're welcome…" He leaned over and kissed her head, taking her hat from her hands and setting it back on her dry head. A few suds from the bath dripped down the sides of it, but she didn't seem to mind, and when Benson reached in for the plug, she yawned.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Mhm."

"Come on then. We'll get you settled in."

He held his arms out, and Evelyn leaned over and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her wet, naked body against him while he hugged her back and helped her stand.

"Careful..." he warned. "It'll be slippery when you step out..."

"I will."

When they were fully standing, Benson slightly pushed away from the hug and grabbed her a towel off the rack. He pressed it against her front and wrapped it around to her back, holding onto it and her hand to keep her balanced on her way out of the tub. He watched her foot and carefully guided her to step out on the bath mat.

"You're doing great," he said. "Stay right here and I'll get you a bathrobe from the closet."

"Okay."

He made his way out, and Evelyn looked over at the window staring out to the city. She was careful when stepping on the tile, but she made her way over, dropping her arms and the side and letting the towel fall to her ankles. She could see the park house from here, and it was lit up in the center of the park like a star guiding her home. She smiled and hugged herself again when she heard her companion returning.

"Arms," he said from behind her, and Evelyn let go of herself to hold her arms out behind her. The soft fabric of his robe felt like a warm cloud as it slipped over her arms before folding around the rest of her body. She looked down where Benson took hold of the belt to tie around her front, but she stopped him and took the ends herself.

"I can do it; I'm not a baby."

Benson didn't say anything, but let her tie it herself. When the knot formed, she let her hands press against her stomach, feeling queasy again, and Benson couldn't resist wrapping his arms around her and putting his own hands over them. He held her stomach and nuzzled the side of her head, taking in the sweet smell of her neck still lingering there from when she took her bath.

He swayed with her a little.

"Evelyn?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

She seemed distant. "Thank you..."

It wasn't the response he was looking for, but Benson ignored it and rubbed the bridge of his nose on the back of her head. "I just want you to get better, Evelyn..."

"Me too..." She sighed.

They stayed quiet for a moment, and in the silence from the small slit in the window, they could hear the sounds of a television from the apartment downstairs. A baritone voice sang a sad song that was kissed with static, and after concentrating on it for a moment, Evelyn's tired eyes lit up and she turned her head toward her companion.

"I know that song..."

"You do?"

"Yeah..." She pushed his hands from her stomach and turned around to face him, looking him in the eye and holding onto his shoulders as she sang the lyrics with a soft, feminine touch.

_"I am weary and sick of trying. I'm tired of living, and scared of dying, but Old Man River, he just keeps rolling along."_

"That's beautiful."

"It should be; it's Hammerstein and Kern..." She smiled a bit. "It's one of my favorites..."

He looked over her. "I kind of like that about you. How you love old timey things."

"It's what I grew up with. I can't help but love it."

"Well...you have good taste in entertainment. More so than other people your age anyway. "

She let out a small laugh and sniffed, rubbing one of her eyes. "Mmm. Sorry, I'm a little tired..."

He squeezed her a bit and held her, taking her hand. "That's fine. You can use my bed."

And he led her out to the apartment, shutting the bathroom light off as the last bit of water swirled down the drain.


	26. Silent Night

_A/N: Hey everyone, I just have one quick announcement before we get started: I said before this story will be 30 chapters long, but due to the length I've decided to split chapter 27 into two parts, so it will technically go to 31 here on the website. That being said, here's chapter 26, only 5 more installments left to go! As always, thank you for reading!_

* * *

><p>It was warm, made of something soft, and its wrists smelled of old cedar and fresh cotton. Benson left her alone to change in his bedroom. The snow was falling outside now in a slow rate as Evelyn stood in front of his mirror, her bare feet slightly tucked in like a toddler's, smelling the wrists of his sweater he let her borrow for the night. Its maroon sleeves were just a few inches too long for her, and they hid her balled up fists inside them. She inhaled the nice scent of the fabric, and she loved the large feeling of the clothing on her body. As she stood there that night, it brought her back to other times, better times when she felt there was safety in her smallness. They were times when she'd be wrapped up tight in Ken's old jacket, on a rainy night one cold autumn, curled up into herself in the passenger seat of the car he stole on their way from the state penitentiary. Her lips nibbled the collar, her thoughts idling on the cause of death being suicide. The lights would flash by like comets that she'd hide from by receding into the coat like a sickly turtle, and the rain would do her crying for her. Through the fabric she could feel his hand stroke her side as he drove them on through the night, tenderly assuring her things would be okay. And she'd close her eyes and really wonder just how things would be okay.<p>

She hugged her arms, rubbing her cheek against her shoulder and sighed...

"How are you feeling?"

Evelyn slowly opened her eyes and looked over at Benson in the doorway, a washrag stuffed in one hand and a rain boot hanging by the leg in the other. He gave her a kind smile, and she returned the favor. "Better..."

"Good." He looked down at the boot and lifted it a bit to show her the inside. "Cleaned up the vomit. It wasn't so bad."

She wanted to giggle but found it hard to. "I'm sorry, Benson."

"It's alright. I've had worse." She watched as he set the boot aside and tossed the rag into a bin beside the door before making his way over to the bed. He pulled back the cover and ran his hand along the sheet beneath it, smoothing out the wrinkles for his guest. At his glance of an invitation, Evelyn followed on weak legs, and he offered her his hand, petting the empty spot on the bed. "All yours."

The snow globe didn't say much to him as she followed his lead and slipped into the cotton sheets, but Benson didn't seem to mind. He simply lifted the cover to her chest when she laid her head against the pillow, showcasing nothing but the upmost concern for the woman visiting his bed. "Do you need anything?" he asked her.

"Mmm...Will you sit with me for a while?"

A spark of joy. "Sure." And he walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed atop it to lie with her while she scooted closer and nuzzled up against his metal body. She went to take his arm and check if he were warm or not, if he'd need a sweater like hers, but when she held his wrist between her fingers, she noticed something she hadn't seen before. A bandage was wrapped around it with a light blush of something red beneath it. Had that always been there?

"What happened?" she asked, petting it with her finger. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Benson looked at it, even though he didn't need to in order to feel its sting. "No, you bit me, but it's okay, Evelyn."

"What? No it's not okay. It must have been a bad one if you had to bandage it like this."

"There was just a little blood, but I'm okay, honest. Easy fix." He rubbed a soft hand along it to show her he wasn't in any pain. "See? And besides..." He reached his good hand around her shoulder and gently caressed the center of her back, but getting not so much as a wince from the snow globe. "Don't—don't you feel this?"

"Yes."

"Well, does it hurt?"

"No...why would it?"

Had she forgotten about the cricket bat?

"Oh, nothing, just wondering..."

"Oh...okay..."

He continued to gently stroke her in the silence between them that followed while the snow continued to flurry outside. It whistled outside the window, the precursor to let them know a blizzard was coming closer, but they had other things on their minds. Benson being the first to act upon his impulse, slowly knelt his head down to her and asked her, "How are you feeling now?"

"Better..." She said again, looking to him with an neutral expression. "Why are you doing this, Benson?"

"Doing what?"

She gave a humble shrug and avoided his gaze, staring at his crank instead of his eyes. " I don't know...Helping me?"

"Because I love you," he replied. It seemed so natural for him to say those word that he realized he hadn't said them as often as he should have. But Evelyn picked up on this and stared back at him.

"But I'm not really worth it am I?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I broke all your things and I bit your wrist for starters. Don't you think it's pretty clear that I'm...I don't know, crazy? What's there to love in someone like that?"

Before she even ended her sentence, Benson took her hand in his and concentrating on her nimble fingers as he stroked his thumb along them. "Well, if you want to know a secret," he said, "crazy people don't know and don't admit they're crazy..." He looked in her eyes. "So you're alright."

"I'm alright?"

"You're alright..." He squeezed her hand. "And there's a lot of things I love about you. There was something I liked about you when I met you; I liked how you were friendly. I liked how you were modest. I liked how you helped me and kept me company when I needed it. You were a breath of fresh air for me, and the more I got to know you, the more I got to see you laugh and skate and be with me, the more I wanted to see you happy, and..." He released his grip on her hand with a sigh. "And I really don't want to see Ken keep hurting you the way he is. After everything that's happened since I first time met him, I'd just—I'd just die if I let anything bad happen to you when I could stop it." He squeezed her hand once more. "And if that's not love, then what is, Evelyn?"

She smiled at his romanticism, and unfazed asked him, "Well what if I didn't love you back? Would you still love me then?"

"I would," he said without missing a beat. "I'd be hurt, but I would. When I look at you, I see someone I want to take care of, someone that I can care for the way someone like Ken just can't—"

"But Ken does care for me," she interjected. "I know it doesn't seem like that to you, but he does. He took me in when I had nothing, when I had no one, and ever since then he's given me the clothes off his back, the food from his mouth, and the only reason he got this way now was because I got older…" She sighed, seemingly irritated. "He's afraid of abandonment, and I'm the only one he has. He treats me unfairly, yeah, and I should have every right to leave him, but I can't do it in the end because he's the only one who will ever love me for me." Another sigh of aspiration as she dug her head into her knees.

"Then tell me," Benson asked of her. "Help me help you by telling me what you haven't said before."

She shook her head wrapped her arms tightly around her knees. "I can't do that, Benson, you'll never understand."

"I'll be the judge of that."

She shook her head with a dry sniff. "It's too hard..."

Benson rolled his lips in thought and scanned the room for ideas, trying to find anything that could help her open up. When he spotted an old stress relief doll on the shelf above his dresser, he quickly slid from the bed to retrieve it only to return a moment later and offer it to her as he placed it firmly in her hands.

"Hold this," he instructed. "Just hold this and close your eyes, and you can tell me anything."

"This won't work—"

"Try."

Evelyn could hear the plead of his voice, and in her affection for him, nodded and squeezed the doll tight, shutting her eyes as she felt the foam mold in her grasp. "I...I don't know where to start, Benson...There's a lot to say."

"Then tell me the first thing that comes to your mind—like an image," Benson suggested. "What do you see? What are you looking at?"

She shivered, and not from the cold, but from the fear of what her memory chose to display.

"A rocking horse," she said.

"A rocking horse?"

She nodded, her fingers turning red as she squeezed the doll harder. "It's a wooden one, and it's bare and tan with a mane carved into it like a carousel horse…and there's a wide saddle on it, very wide...and...and…"

"And…?"

Her arms twitched as her memory played out behind her eyes. "There are seven of them..."

"Seven horses?"

She shook her head. "Seven men...they're tall, most of them. Some of them are overweight…a lot of them have gray and white hair..." She took a shaking breath and pushed herself to speak, to tell him what she could see inside her mind. Her fingers pinched deeper into the foam.

"They're in my room now," she continued. "They're taunting me and pulling me from where I'm hiding under my bed...I'm crying because I know what's happening, and they shove things into my mouth to make me be quiet when I try to scream...And they shove my rag doll into my mouth and make me bite her...and they force me onto my stomach on the saddle...They're using my jump ropes and ribbons to tie me to it so I can't move, and they take turns ripping my clothes off..."

"Evelyn..." Benson was lost.

"They call me Evelyn Sevelyn, they taunt me with it, and they put a blindfold around my eyes so I can't see. Two of them pull my legs apart, and one of them puts his mouth there between my…nnnn" Her legs fidgeted and she closed them tighter against her body. "I-I can feel his beard tickle me there and I squirm, but when I do I hear them laugh. They're in a circle around me, and when one of them...tries to...nnnn" She gasped and took a sharp breath. "They're touching themselves and they rub against me, and when I try to scream they take turns putting themselves in mouth, and it tastes like hair and salt. I want to puke and cry and, and—" She was trembling.

"Eve—" Tears were welling in his eyes.

"They'd hurt me and I couldn't breathe, and—and I'd cry for my Papa, but they wouldn't stop until all seven—all seven, God" she dropped the doll and held her head between her knees, "All of them, at one time, and I can't—I can't." She curled up and began to rock as Benson pulled her into an embrace, trying to shield her from something, but he didn't know what. At first she tried to push away from him but calmed herself when she regained her sense of place and took a few heaving breaths. "He—he was the only one who never hurt me," she said through her tears. "Papa. Papa, he'd never hurt me that way."

"Of course not," Benson said with a gentle tone, trying not to cry himself, "he was your Papa; he loved you."

"He loved me," she repeated, shutting her eyes. "He loved me…he loved me..."

"Yes, he loved you."

A sharp gasp for air. "Then why'd he have to go away?" she whined. "Why'd he leave me all alone?"

"I don't know, Evelyn…"

"Papa…" Tears dripped down her face. "I'm so sorry I was bad. I didn't mean to be."

"You weren't bad, Evelyn."

"I am bad—I'm the reason he went away. I'm evil, and I've ruined his life, Ken's life, your life—I'm sorry—I'm sorry." And she broke out into another round of sobs.

Benson only rocked with her, shushing her as she whimpered and clung desperately to his arms. The gumball machine was at a loss for everything. Words, thoughts, reality. He had no idea it was that bad, and that was only where she started. What more could there have been in this poor thing's life?

"You're not evil," he ended up saying to her. "You're...you're just scared and confused right now is all, but it's okay...It's okay..." he lowered his voice, continuing to shush her as she calmed down along with him. "I'm...I'm here for you, Evelyn. I'm right here, and I'll always be here. No one's going to hurt you anymore, and no one's going to take you away from me."

"But I'm not good for you, Benson, I'm not," she forced out. "My whole life's nothing but a vicious cycle. When it goes good it'll go good and then it'll go bad, it will. I was too much for Papa, I'm too much for Ken, and I'll be too much for you too—I'm cursed, I am—"

"Shhh," he held her tighter and squeezed her frail body as much as he dared to try. "That will never happen. I love you, Evelyn. I'll never let that happen..."

She sniffed up something wet and pressed her face against him in hopes it would hold her back from this disgusting display of sorrow she felt. "I can't do this anymore, I'm sorry, I can't. Please don't go..." she said.

"I won't. I never will."

Evelyn whimpered and he coaxed her into taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. The snow kept falling, howling at the two inside the safety of the bedroom. After another several minutes of mild hyperventilation, she mustered out a "Thank you..."

"Don't mention it..." he replied.

Then there was silence for a moment as she sniffed up one more time and asked in a calmer voice, "Benson?"

"Yeah?"

"Can...can you call me your Little Evelyn?"

"Little Evelyn?" he repeated. "Like a pet name?"

She nodded. "Yes. Please?"

"Okay," he gave her a sad smile to reassure her. "Yeah, I like that...Don't you worry, everything's going to be okay, Little Evelyn. I promise."

She sniffed back her now dried tears and forced a smile, nodding that she understood his words, which made a kinder smile come back to his own face.

She gulped and steadied herself, maintaining control of her emotions once more. "You'd...you'd make a great dad, Benson..." she said after a while. "I just thought I'd say that and let you know."

That struck a chord with him. "You think so?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Nothing it's just...that's very kind of you to say..." He shifted around, wondering if switching subjects like this was best, but after what he'd just witnessed, he figured it was for the better. What happened to her could be saved for later in a better environment, maybe with a counselor or therapist that he could take her to, and then she'd be okay...But for now, "I always felt that was my biggest regret in life, not having children."

"They're not so great," she tried to defend, rubbing the dry tears from her eyes. "They're loud, they're needy, always wanting your attention."

"I wouldn't mind it," he said with a kind tone. "I've actually dreaming of having that for a long time now."

"Why?"

"I don't know...It would make me feel like I've made something of myself I guess. I could have made my parents proud of me if they saw how grown up I'd become in raising children of my own."

"Well I'm proud of you," she said. "Does that count?"

"It can." He rubbed her head. "And I'm proud of you too."

"Don't be."

"Well I am."

"Why?"

"Because you're overcoming so much in your life," he tried to avoid the subject again, "and I think that's admirable in a girl your age."

She brought herself to face him. "Do you really think so?"

"Yeah, I do. Whatever insecurities you have, like your hat for instance, those are all just things in your head." He slid his palm along her dome. "You're very beautiful, Evelyn, and you're very talented, and you shouldn't be ashamed of yourself."

"But I am ashamed. I'm broken."

"You're not broken, Evelyn."

"No, literally," she looked at him in all seriousness, "I'm broken."

Benson blinked, removing his hand. "Oh, wai—what?"

She turned to him fully. "Think about this. Do you remember how I used to always have the TV on during sex?"

"Yeah." He really didn't want to think about sex right now...

"That's because I...well, I didn't want you to hear." She held her arm.

"Hear? Hear what?"

She glanced to him. "Promise you won't judge me?"

"I'd never."

"Promise."

"Okay, I promise."

"Okay..." Evelyn took a steady breath and slipped her hand underneath the covers and between her legs. Benson practically did a double take when he noticed how she began to twist her knob, biting her lip once in a while to keep quiet as she turned herself, and he reached out.

"E-Evelyn?"

"Here..." She panted out and sat up again, bringing her hand back up to the surface. Benson stared at her hand, focusing on it and listened intently when he heard a low tumble, some clinks, some clacks, and then, ever so faintly he heard the tunes of a music box.

"You see?" she whispered. "Do you hear how ungodly that is? You hear how it's so off key and goes flat and how it skips beats? That's because when I was little, men would twist it so hard and so far that my insides would—"

"Shh..." Benson placed two fingers over her mouth. "Stop about that now...I want to listen to it..."

"What for?" she said to his fingers. "It's just noise."

And what came next was something she didn't expect at all. Very softly, Benson was humming along to her music, and soon after that, he began to sing.

"Silent night...holy night...all is calm...all is bright..."

She looked to him and remained fixated on him, unable to comprehend what he was doing.

"Round yon Virgin, mother and chi—oh it skipped there, but—in heavenly peace...Sle...Oh, it stopped there."

"Benson..."

He looked at her. "Yes?"

She was unable to think of anything to say as she wiped her eyes with her sleeves, so he took the lead. "It's _Silent Night_ isn't it? Your song is _Silent Night_."

"But how can you..."

"Those flats and slips? Those are just mild imperfections. I can still see and hear you beneath them."

She gasped out a sob but tried her hardest not to. She could think of nothing more to do than to hug him as tight as she could around his neck. He held her back, swaying with her a bit. "You're still you, Evelyn..." he whispered. "Isn't that what you're trying to tell me with this?"

Now she did sob out and bit her lip. Benson had no idea what was happening but still held her. "You'll always be you, Evelyn. We all have little imperfections, but who we are will always come out in the end, crystal clear."

"Benson," she sobbed, clinging to him tight, "I love you."

She said it, he thought. She said it to me...finally...

He nuzzled her in his arms, the bridge of his nose on her neck and whispered back, "I love you too, Evelyn..."

They stayed that way for a long time, and it diluted any ill will brought up in their earlier conversation. Their silent embrace, underscored by the snow was only disrupted when Evelyn yawned and Benson couldn't help but smirk, letting her go to lie back down.

"Getting sleepy huh?" he whispered in better spirits. She gave a slight nod as she curled up beneath the covers, her exhaustion finally getting the best of her. "Do you need anything?" Benson asked.

"Can you read me a story?"

"A story huh? Mmm, well, you're in luck." He turned to the bedside table and opened the drawer where a book of Shakespeare's works sat inside. "I'll read you the greatest bedtime poem ever written."

Evelyn let out a soft sigh as Benson opened the book to a page pre-marked with a dried yellow rose incased in a plastic bookmark. He cleared his throat as she got closer to him, afraid of roaming too far.

"Oh," he began a he read, "then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes in shape no bigger than an agate stone. On the forefinger of an alderman, drawn with a team of little atomies, over men's noses as they lie asleep. Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs, the cover, of the wings of grasshoppers. Her traces, of the smallest spider web, her collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams..."

Evelyn listened to his words...

"Her whip, of crickets bone, the lash, of film..."

And she tried her hardest to picture the kind of imagery to go along with the details he described. But nothing of that kind of beauty came to mind. Her eyes glanced from the page to Benson's mouth when he spoke, and the words seemed to blend together and become a giant string of useless letters the longer she stared. She only wanted to concentrate on his voice, the way he spoke from where she lay by his side, her head on his chest, her hands beneath her chin. All she could think of in this poem of fairies and webs and dreaming was her Papa and how Benson seemed to capture his spirit with every gesture he made. Before too long, her heavy eyelids became too much to bear, and she drifted off to sleep.

"This is she that plats the manes of horses in the night and bakes the elflocks in foul, sluttish hairs, which once untangled much misfortune bodes. This is she, when maids lie on their backs, that presses them and leans them first to bear, making them women of good carriage. This is she..."

Benson glanced down at the snow globe on his shoulder and saw that she was fast asleep with every heaving breath and twitch of her finger. It comforted him to see her this way. He remembered the days they shared together at the rink, the ones that ended in them being naked with another in the backroom of the employee lounge. He loved the way Evelyn slept beside him the first night they made love. The flickering light of the television didn't wake her delicate form, and neither did he beneath their blanket when he leaned over and kissed her cheek. Only a soft push of his forehead against hers and a slight nudge would wake her, and that was only because he had to drive her home.

"But I am home," she mumbled, still half asleep as she rubbed her head against the couch cushion.

Benson smiled at the memory and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Yes you are," he whispered. And with a soft kiss to her temple, Benson closed the book and put it away on his side table, switching off the lamp and he nuzzled into his pillow to sleep.

"Night, Little Evelyn..." he muttered, and then he said no more.

* * *

><p>The storm softened outside, but inside was another story as the clock ticked past another hour.<p>

Evelyn tossed and turned beneath the sheets, a small grunt sounding from her throat.

He smashed another vase.

"You were with that Mike guy again weren't you?" Ken sneered down at her. "Did you fuck him?"

They were in their apartment, trashed and broken as it was before. Evelyn shook her head, afraid of the pain. "No, Ken, no. He just needed someone to talk to, Ken, honest." She whimpered in his shadow. "All we did was talk."

"Did you just talk with Frankie?"

"Ken."

"Cause I killed him. What about Gerald? Cause guess what, I killed him too."

"No..." She held herself

"And Benson?"

She looked into his hate-filled eyes. "I'm not—"

"I can smell him on you." He got in her face, the ends of his hair tickling at her face. "Cherry."

"I'm not lying…" she begged.

"You were with Benson, I know you were." He shoved her back against the wall, causing her knees to buckle where she fell to the floor. "It's a vicious cycle, Evelyn. Get up, get up," he demanded.

"I can't," she whined. "I can't move."

"Liar." He kicked her. "I said get up."

Evelyn held her stomach and doubled over, shaking her head. "No, no, no."

Ken grabbed her up and slammed her against the wall, pinning her to it with his nails digging into her arm.

"Open your eyes," he said.

Evelyn shook her head, letting it hang low for a moment. He slammed her again. "I said open them!" he demanded again, but this time his voice sounded different, a higher pitch.

So she obeyed him and looked at him, but Ken was no longer in front of her. It was Benson. His metal was hot with a red orange hue, his teeth gritted in a seething rage as he glared at her. She gasped out.

"Bens—"

He slammed her to the wall and let her drop to the floor. "You were with Ken weren't you?" he shouted.

She shook her head. "No, no..."

"You don't do anything in this house unless I tell you that you can, is that understood?"

She sniffed and nodded. "Yes sir."

He knelt beside her on the ground. "I mean it, Evelyn. I'm the only one who's looking out for you. Would you put that in your brain and make it fucking stay there?"

"Yes sir..."

"Good." He pressed her down to her back and pinned her wrists beside her head before reaching behind his back. "Because you belong to me now." He pulled a knife out and lifted the tail of her dress.

"No, don't stop!"

"Too late now." He pushed the blade between her.

"Nnnuugh!" Her eyes shot open in the darkness of Benson's bedroom with a rough gasp escaping her lips. Cold sweat dampened the back of her neck and dripped down to the pillow as she stared blankly at the wall, trying to absorb what had just happened. Something moved beside her, and Evelyn turned to see Benson sleeping soundly beside her, curled beneath the blanket and facing her with his mouth slightly open, soft snores lost in the air.

Evelyn slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from shrieking and she rolled to her elbows and knees, slowly crawling back to the foot of the bed to put distance between her and the sleeping man in her bed. She went to far however and lost her balance at the edge, falling back with a soft thud on a pile of clothes. Scrambling to her feet, Evelyn grabbed a coat from the pile and held it to her body as a shield, slowly backtracking up against the bedroom door with her eyes on Benson, afraid if she looked away for even a second he would awaken and attack her. But when she reached the door and calmed down with a few deep breaths, she lowered the coat and watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling with every frail breath he took. She swallowed, going to toss the coat to the side when she felt the edge of a piece of paper sticking out from one of the pockets. Curious, she pulled out a folded flyer and opened it, dropping the coat when she made out the design of a handout she made herself several months ago.

In the dim light of the moon she could read _Evelyn Wimberley, Asleep in a Blizzard, December 3rd, 3:00pm, Lobby of the Conner Art Building._

She crumbled the flyer to her chest and bit her bottom lip, craning her head back against the door and closing her eyes, feeling their burning stings.

"God…" she whispered with a cracked voice. "Help me…"

Benson stirred on the bed, and she watched him, afraid she'd awoken him, but when he settled back into a comfortable position, she twisted the knob behind her and slipped out as silently as a gush of winter wind.

And from there she paced. She paced in the living room, she paced in the bathroom, and when she was tired of that, she paced in the kitchen. The flyer remained crumpled in her hand as she muffled her desperate squeals for help, debating with herself every thought that raced through her brain, every once in a while referring to the sheet when she had to confirm her performance was in fact later that day, which it was and that just wouldn't change. It seemed so far away when she planned it, when she planned everything, but now that it was here...

She shoved the paper down on the counter and glared at it, her hands gripping the edges in order to keep balance as she stared down every trace of ink on the page. Then her eyes glanced over to the motivational calendar.

"Fulfillment..." she whispered, tears finding their way to her eyes. "Today is a day of fulfilling your dreams…" She rolled her lips and shut her eyes tight to keep the tears inside. She breathed in and sighed out. "Reach them by taking flight…"

Evelyn glanced over at the paper still on the counter and grabbed it up one last time. In a quick motion she ripped it to several shreds and tossed it in the waste bin, staring down at it even after the lid closed to make sure they wouldn't form again and crawl out. A few moments later she made her way over to the window and stared up at the moon that shone in on her alone in the kitchen. She held herself and took a deep breath through her nose, hoping to build her strength.

"I'm here..." she whispered and placed a shivering, pleading hand up against the glass, reaching for the stars beyond its enclosure. "I'm here, Papa. Your little girl's right here..."

The clock ticked into the wee hours of early morn when Evelyn gathered her composure and left Benson's apartment. When she passed the door to his bedroom, she slowed and placed her hand on the doorknob, wanting more than anything to open it, to see him still sleeping in his bed, to wake him up and kiss his lips, to lay with him in their sensual endeavors at least one more time, but she couldn't bring herself to even open it a creak. Instead she pressed her whole body against it, her open palms flat against the wood beside her forehead that rested upon it as well.

"I love you, Benson," she whispered to the cracks. A tear slid down her cheek that she couldn't sniff back, and her fingers curled on the door. "I love you..."

* * *

><p>The door was already ajar by the time she came back to the apartment, and her knees wanted so badly to buckle beneath her as the balanced herself on the doorframe. She'd been whistled at on the way home by young men on the street. When she waited to cross an intersection, a man stuck his hand up the tail of her shirt to feel the private areas of her body. She jerked away from him and fell back onto a lamppost, dizzy with thirst and fatigue, and he simply laughed at her before stumbling off himself into the night. The snow was cold against her bare feet, and a small blush ran across her nose when he sneezed. By the time she made the journey across the city and back home, she stared up at the dark window on the third floor and wondered if he had come home.<p>

When she opened the apartment door with the spare key they left in a crack in the floorboard, she noticed right away everything was left as it had been. Things were still overturned, thrown, broken and forgotten on the floor, but bottles of alcohol lined the coffee table where an ashtray sat full to the brim of what Ken left behind. When she stumbled over to the open door of the bedroom, she could see his frame inside, curled beneath the blanket. She took a steady breath and walked over to her side of the bed, still empty and waiting for her use. She pulled off Benson's sweatshirt and tossed it to the floor, uncaring of where it landed, and attempted to open the dresser when she sneezed again.

She stared over her shoulder to see if she had awoken Ken, and after hearing the slight movements of the mattress springs, she heard him speak and she knew. He could see her in the dark, the moonlight hitting her naked frame coming in from the broken blinds, and as she crossed her arms over her bare chest, he whispered, "Where've you been?"

Evelyn said nothing. She kept her arms crossed over her and stepped over to the edge of the bed, standing almost bowlegged in front of him. Ken sat up, balancing on his elbows as he tried to make out her expression. She did the same for him. While he saw a tired, cold and hungry child, she saw a tired, sweating, cold and nervous wreck. They still said nothing to one another as Ken reached over and pulled back the covers, inviting her to lay with him. She placed one knee on the mattress and bent over, crawling to where he lay on his side, his arm held out to accept her company. When she pressed herself against him, she could feel the slickness of the sweat of his chest, the softness of the hair that cradled her head. He held her in gently in his arms as she stretched her legs out, wrapping them around one of his to cling to him, smelling the natural scent of his body mixed with the scent of tobacco and booze. She closed her eyes that burned with her exhaustion just as Ken pulled the blanket up to her bareness.

"Are you warm, Evelyn?" he asked softly.

"A little..." she managed to say back, her lips pressed to his skin. She could taste the salt of his sweat and she rubbed her forehead against him. "I'm so tired…"

"Shh, you're home now…" He pet her back to coax her to sleep. "Everything will be alright…"

She let him rub her without protest.

He slowed his movements, staring down at her. "Were you with Benson?"

A small nod.

Ken nodded, stroking her a little more. "I was right wasn't I? He wasn't good for you, wasn't he?"

Another small nod, then silence.

"I'm sorry, Evelyn," he said down to her. "But there's safety in ignorance. You should know this by now that we've only got each other…"

"Mmm…"

"And I...I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"But is it true?" she asked. "That I wasn't ready?"

He hesitated. "Yes...I wanted to be with you so bad that I had to get you out of there...do you remember the old days on the road?" His voice tried to lift in spirit. "Just me and you and no one else—us against the world? How we'd go from town to town, playing gigs, my old guitar, your singing and dancing...remember that, Ev?"

She nodded, burying her face in his chest, clinging to him tighter.

"Yeah, those were the days...before any of this happened…" He reached down and gripped her bottom, holding it firm in his hand as he embraced her. "I want to go back to those days, Ev..."

"Mmm…"

"We can, Evelyn...We'll move away from here, find a nice place to live. We can get married..."

There was no response from the snow globe curled up beside him. He swallowed and continued. "I'll be good to you, Ev. I'll take care of you every day of my life. I'll never leave your side when you're sick or abandon you when you're upset. I won't hurt you anymore; I won't lie to you anymore. I won't be with anyone else but you, and I won't let anyone else hurt you either, especially me..."

"Ken…" Her voice was drained and muffled against his body. She barely had enough energy to say his name. But the man on the bed beside her tightened his embrace and continued.

"I won't let you down, Ev. I promise I won't. I'll be a good husband to you, you'll see…" He ran a hand along the back of her head and asked her again, "So will you? Will you marry me?"

The time was 5:15am when Evelyn forced herself to wrap her arms around his chest, and with a weak sigh, she dug her face into his skin, coated with hair and sweat, and whispered back a tired, "Yes." And then, as Ken smiled and slept through the rest of the night, she stared ahead into the darkness of her vision and had the most wonderful dream.


	27. Asleep in a Blizzard Part One

_So this is it._

_Here I am behind the curtain._

_After all these years, I've made it._

_The band is playing; I can hear the audience outside—thousands of them, here for me. No turning back now. No sir. He'll be watching. They'll all be watching. I have to give it my all. I will give it my all. So come on sweetie, here you go. Best foot forward. Make em want you. You can do it. Make em love you. You can do it._

_The score is changing._

_There's the cue, and there's the dim._

_Up goes the curtain; up goes my smile._

_And on goes the show._

* * *

><p>Back and forth went the windshield wipers of Ken's car. To, fro, to, fro, the blades melting and brushing away the snowdrift that landed on the glass. Evelyn kept her hands steady on the wheel, the 10-2 position Ken taught her when she got her license, and she stared ahead to the road in front of her, the bags heavy under her eyes in a dead glance. The interior was cold, Ken's heater not working as it should, and she felt goose bumps creep along her arms beneath her coat as she drove on that morning. If the radio was on, she couldn't hear it. She focused on the sleeted tar of the main street on her way to the Conner Art Building of the college, too distracted with thoughts to drive, but she had to get there somehow.<p>

When she pulled up to the back of the building and cut the rumbling engine, she continued to hold onto the wheel as she sat in silent contemplation, not ready to go in and wanting some time with her thoughts. She glanced over at some art students smoking cigarettes by the open double doors and watched as they laughed amongst each other, kicking snow to one another while they carried on. She'd seen some of them in class. Some of them were friendly, but not friendly enough to ask her to be friends. Maybe if they did, she'd be there with them now, kicking snow with them and waiting for whoever had the privilege to do this piece with them. But it was her luck that wasn't the case, and she lived with it in silence.

With a soft sigh, Evelyn opened the driver's side door and slid out onto the snow-covered Earth to retrieve her canvas from the trunk. She was thankful Ken had such large trunk space; she could barely fit it into it when she picked it up from the studio. She was thankful for her luck. Now covered in a protective sheet, she pulled the canvas out and grunted while struggling with it, having to balance the large thing on her back as she doubled over to hold it. With another growl, she slammed the trunk shut and stared at the ground as she made her way toward the doors, feeling the aches and strains of her back. It was her luck. But by the time she arrived at the concrete steps, she heard some relief when the other students finally noticed her coming there way from the parking lot. "Oh, hey, Evelyn, didn't see you," they said, "We're here to help you out for extra credit; you want us to take that from you?"

She felt the canvas lifted off her back and she stretched out before crossing her arms at the boys taking it inside. "Thanks. Just set it in my dressing room. I don't want people trying to look at it before the show and all."

"You got it."

She followed them inside, breathing warmth back to her mitten-covered hands as she scanned the loading dock for the rest of her volunteers. The others were mostly females, gathered around and gossiping, but a quick clap of her hands got their attention. "Okay," she called out, "While they're taking the canvas to my room, I need the rest of you to start laying the paper out on the staircase in the lobby, and make sure you cover the whole step of every step and the landing. I don't want to get in trouble for getting paint on the wood, and make sure you use the blue tape when putting it down."

They all nodded, showing their understanding of her instructions, and dispersed to start grabbing up large rolls of paper and tape. Evelyn waited before most of them were gone before taking another steady breath, feeling exhausted, when she felt a wing on her shoulder.

"Evelyn," she heard Margaret say. "You're here."

She turned to look at her friend, at first taken aback when she noticed the robin was wearing only pajamas with a jacket over them. Wasn't she cold in that?

"Of course I'm here," she responded. "It's my performance date isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd show up what with the eloping and everything..." She rubbed her arm.

"Oh...well we're postponing it 'til later." She walked over to a coffee pot set up on a fold out table and poured herself a cup, distracting herself from Margaret's gaze. "I've been preparing for this for over a year now—I had to do back flips in order to beat out the juniors and seniors for this opportunity."

Margaret followed. "I understand, but aren't you worried?"

"About what?" She poured in some cream.

"About Ken. I mean he'll come here because he'll know you'll be here right?"

"So what if he does?" She stirred in some sugar as well. "He can't do anything to me here."

"Evelyn..."

She turned to her friend and leaned back against the table. "I'll tell you what, Margaret, I need to go run some errands before the show this afternoon. I'll promote you to my personal assistant, meaning no hard labor for you, if you stop talking about Ken from here on out, deal?"

"Thank you, that sounds great, and I won't bring it up, but...just promise me that you know what you're doing."

"I do." She downed her coffee like a shot of whiskey and slammed the cup into the trashcan before pulling her car keys from her coat. "He's the last thing on my mind right now, and I need to focus. Well, Miss Assistant, follow me for our first errand."

"And what's that?" she asked, following close behind.

Evelyn smiled. "Shoe shopping."

* * *

><p>It was getting colder now. Much colder, and he curled into himself to keep warm, afraid if he didn't, he wouldn't wake up again.<p>

He was coming down now from a place where he cried, not in sadness this time but in happiness. He was there with her from what he could see, and she had hurt herself again. But it didn't matter anymore. He cradled her in his arms while she wept in silent tears, in a white dress made of soft linen and red ribbons, tied around her wrists. He whispered to her that she was safe, and she smiled up at him, knowing in her sorrows that she was indeed safe.

But when he stroked her cheek, he felt the warm cotton of his bed sheets, and while his eyes remained closed, he knew he was awake. With a slight groan he stretched his back and legs, feeling the blood rush as he held tightly to his pillow. Eyes slowly opening up, he stared at the blurred image before him of an empty spot beside him on the bed. He blinked until his vision cleared and he sat up, his eyes darting about the room when he noticed Evelyn was not there.

He checked the bathroom, the living room, the kitchen, but there was no sight of his snow globe anywhere in his apartment. With a chilling heart, one to match the frost outside his window, he grabbed the phone and frantically began to dial.

* * *

><p>Across the city was the same story.<p>

Ken winced at the sunlight beaming in through the blinds and pulled the blanket over his head, hunching into the fetal position, unwilling to awaken to another dreary day. But it was of course short-lived soon upon his waking when he didn't feel the small body beside him. He opened his eyes to look and she wasn't there.

He didn't feel like checking the bathroom, and he didn't feel like checking the living room or the kitchen either. Instead he sighed heavily, wrapping the blanket around himself before sliding out of bed and going to the kitchen anyway for coffee. The clock he passed read a quarter after noon. Maybe she was downstairs getting the mail...where else could his fiancé be on a gloomy day like this?

But when he poured himself a cup from the pot already brewed and waiting for him on the counter, he saw a note written on pink stationary for him stuck underneath the coffee maker. He slid it over with two fingers and read through blurry eyes:

_Ken. Went to set up for the show this afternoon. I took the car, but I'll be back before 2:30 to pick up my dress. Be ready to go when I get there. And it's snowing pretty bad, so don't go outside to get food. I left you some potato soup in the fridge if you get hungry. See you soon. Ev._

Ken took a moment to register her words and then swore under his breath, leaning over the counter to run his fingers through his hair. That was today? He thought. Her performance was today? He could feel the intensity of his hangover starting to give him a migraine, and he rubbed his face, abandoning his coffee to flop down on the couch in the other room. That was the last place he felt like being: in a loud hall with people and music and flashing lights—no, not his thing right now. He needed peace, quiet, more sleep...He'd just have to tell her no when she got back. She'd understand. And they were televising it for the anniversary of the college, or so she told him. Maybe he could bargain that he'd record it at home to be a keepsake. Still, he felt an ill feeling in his gut, and he wasn't sure if it was just the hangover or some other brooding force at work trying to make him grow sicker by the minute. Whichever it was, it was working, and the cold was seeping in from outside, piercing to his skin, and all he wanted was to go back to bed and stay there the rest of the day.

She'd understand that. She'd have to understand that.

"Mmm." Deciding that would be his route to take, Ken stood up on two weary legs and heading back toward the bedroom, only stopping when he accidently stepped on the edge of a picture frame that had fallen from the bookshelf during their fight the previous day. He knelt down to pick it up amongst the clutter, and saw within it a black and white photo of Evelyn, taken in her senior year of high school for the dance club's page in the yearbook. She stood at the rail by the mirror of her old recital room, gripping it in her right hand, up on the toes of her right foot, left leg extended high, left arm curved above her head. She stared at her reflection, concentrating on her pose, and outside the window of the dance studio Ken could see it snowing. She looked so peaceful and in her expression, it looked like she longed for something...This was his favorite picture of her, and in the eerie quiet of the apartment, he tried to pinpoint why.

But maybe it was just because it showed her without a smile, and she looked sad doing something she loved. Maybe there was something beautiful about that he never thought of before. But it was too early to think, so in a daze, he looked away from it.

He sighed and on a whim, turned the bookshelf back up against the wall and started picking up the pieces that fell from it to tidy up, noticing one of the items that had fallen was an old copy of _Charlotte's Web_. It was the same copy he'd stolen from her rehab facility nearly seven years ago when he stole her from the place as well. It was the first book he read to her when she turned ten, and that was also the first time they got to spend time with one another without the separation of a fence. Looking around now at what he held in his arms, he could see the memories playing from each little treasure he cradled. There was an old brass key from a brothel in Texas where they rented a room for a few months while Ken searched for work. The woman there loved Evelyn and liked the idea of having Ken around for protection. He worried about Evelyn in that kind of environment, but in a way that scared him, it didn't seem to faze her. Back then she concentrated on anything she could obsess over, and for her it was schooling. He'd come home late at night while she'd be up in the costume room, doing homework problems and worksheets by lamplight, excited for the chance to go to high school somewhere if she could pass an exam to get in. He was proud of her when she did, and he remembered feeling warm inside when he dropped her off on her first day of freshman year. And the memories didn't stop there. Then there was a seashell, picked up by the side of the road when their first car broke down on the side of an interstate several years ago. Evelyn's optimism told him it had to be a good luck charm since they were hundreds of miles from the nearest ocean, and sure enough within a half hour, the car was up and running again as if it were a miracle. Also in this collection was a plastic wind-up car, a small tin box with a picture of a reindeer on it, a silver spoon from Boston, and a small book of Shakespeare sonnets, signed by her first English teacher, Mr. Nowinksi. This didn't even include the other treasures still lying around his feet.

Ken took a moment to sit on the floor and wonder what he would do with all of these things if they were ever to break. When they moved into this apartment after Evelyn finished high school, they made a big deal about showcasing these things to always remind them of how far they'd come from rags to suitable living. It was disheartening to think after the past two years they'd forgotten about them. They were always out in the open, and they witnessed every fight, every curse, every hit, every make-up, the whole cycle over and over again.

In a small moment of enlightenment, Ken decided what he wanted to do for his soon to be bride.

He picked up every little treasure between the two and set them up on the now-upturned coffee table before heading over to the closet. He pulled out one of the large shoeboxes at the bottom and carefully placed each item inside, wrapping it gingerly in the tissue that came with the box. All he needed was one more thing, and when Evelyn got home, he'd give it to her. It would make up for everything, and they really would be able to start fresh. All he needed now was to find that one piece of their history he locked away in his own personal safe, a piece of their history he never shared with her, something she didn't even know existed.

He had to find the letter from Jerome "Papa" Wimberley.

* * *

><p>Benson couldn't stop shaking at the kitchen table of the park house. He tried to focus on the ripples in the coffee cup Mordecai offered him, but he was both cold from running here from home and severely worried for Evelyn's safety, wherever she could be. He was too occupied with his thoughts to eavesdrop on the blue jay's conversation.<p>

"Okay...okay..." Mordecai said into the phone. "Awesome, thank you so much, Margaret. I'll let him know...uh huh...okay, I love you too...bye." He hung up and turned to Benson, joining him at the table. "Everything's fine," he said, wrapping his wing around his own mug, "Evelyn's with Margaret. They're running errands before _Asleep in a Blizzard_ this afternoon."

"Asleep in a...oh, God." He buried his face in his hands. "I'm such an idiot. I completely forgot that was today..."

"It's okay, you said you didn't sleep a lot last night, and these things happen when you don't get enough rest." He stirred in some sugar, still in his pajamas as well since he too stayed up late the night before. When Margaret drove him home from the coffee shop, she spent the night with him in his bed, and it was one he'd remember for a long time.

Benson grunted from across the table. "I'm so sorry. I overreacted."

"I said it's fine, you don't have to apologize."

"It's just since last night..." He trailed off trying to find his words, sighing deeply as he sunk lower in his chair just thinking about the events of the previous day. "God...I'm so worried about her, Mordecai. I'm in way over my head on this one..."

Concernment replaced relief and he leaned in closer. "You look terrible. What happened?"

"I just found out a lot of things about her last night that I didn't know before, and I'm just scared I can't give her what she needs."

"Well what did you find out?"

He shook his head, crossing his arms on the table. "It's a long story and too complicated to talk about right now. I just know that no matter what happens from now on I can't let her out of my sight anymore. She has the potential to be a danger to herself and everyone around her—I mean look what she did to me." He pulled back the sleeve of his pajama top to show him the bandage on his wrist. "She bit me."

"Why?"

"Because she's got a lot of skeletons in her closet, and if someone doesn't help her soon—that being me—she could seriously wind up messed up beyond belief." He grunted again in frustration, rubbing the sleep from his face. "Just...damnit…I had a plan of going to the Keys with her, but now after this, I want to take her somewhere quiet, less busy, with lots of clinics and doctors—"

"Holy shit," Mordecai muttered. "Is what's wrong with her really that bad?"

"You don't know the half of it..." He drank some of his coffee to occupy himself, and set it back down with a quiet thud. "I thought it was a black and white scenario of her boyfriend abusing her, but you were right, Mordecai. I should have listened to you. I should have learned more about her before making all these decisions. God, I'm sorry."

"It's okay..."

He sighed heavily, rubbing at his eyes again. "No, no, I take that back, I'm not sorry. She needed this—she needed me to happen—no matter how long I've known her now, she's my responsibility now. She trusts me, Mordecai. I'm all she's got left."

"Okay, okay, you don't need to convince me anymore..." He sipped his coffee with a somber expression, worried now the mentality of his boss more so than Evelyn. Then he focused on him when he saw Benson narrow his own gaze into his mug. "And Ken...that guy's probably found out now she's gone, the sick, prowling bastard..."

Mordecai felt ill. "Oh shit."

"What?"

"Do you think he'll go to her performance? He'd know about it wouldn't he, living with her for that long?"

Benson stared at him, the sudden realization evident in his eyes. Without missing a beat, he stood from the table, Mordecai copying his actions.

"What are you doing?"

"I've got an art show to get to."

"But what about Ken—"

"Fuck Ken. I'm going to protect her."

"How?"

"I'll get a gun."

"What?" He followed him to the counter. "Are you out of your mind? You can't bring a gun to an art show."

"Like hell I can't." Benson poured the rest of his coffee in the sink before turning to get back home. "I'm taking a gun with him, and if he's there and tries to hurt her, the son of a bitch won't see me coming."

Mordecai only had time to hold up his wing in protest before the kitchen door slammed shut.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile across town, Margaret hung up the phone from where she sat in the car, just in time to see Evelyn making her way out of the art supplies store, a large paper bag in hand. When she got back into the driver's seat, the robin waited for her to turn and set it in the backseat before striking up a conversation her curiosity couldn't help but bring up. Her wings gripped the edges of the shoebox she held in her lap as Evelyn smiled, getting the engine going.<p>

"Got the paint," she said.

"Awesome..." Margaret replied. "So...I know you didn't want to talk about Ken, so I won't, but I'm just wondering how things are going with Benson. They're going okay right?"

"Yeah, everything's fine." She shifted into drive and pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road, heading back the way they'd come.

"Are you sure?" She was slightly alarmed by the phone call of Benson searching for her, and she couldn't help but be doubtful.

"I'm sure," Evelyn replied. "If things were going wrong I'd tell you—you're one of my best friends."

"Would you...?"

She stopped a red light. "Damn...Look, Margaret, I'm fine, okay?"

"I'm just worried about you, Evelyn. You look a little sick, and you've looked like that for a while."

"I just haven't been sleeping right the past few days, okay? There's nothing to worry about."

"Then why are you hunching over like you're sick?"

Evelyn noticed when she said that how she bent over the steering wheel and immediately straightened her posture. But when she did, she held back a gag and gripped the wheel, feeling like she was going to vomit. Margaret shifted on the seat, now full on worried.

"Evelyn, come on, I'm serious. You look like you're about to—"

"I said I'm fine!" she snapped, staring at the dashboard instead of her friend. Her fingers drummed the wheel, trying to keep a firm grip. "I just feel sick to my stomach right now is all—it's just nerves like you said."

"But you've been feeling like that for over a week now."

"It's just nerves," she said again before driving through the green light. "I'll be fine, just please drop it."

"…Okay..." She leaned back in her seat and stared at the passing buildings along the street. "I won't ask anymore...I can understand the nervous thing...I mean something like food poisoning doesn't last this long right?"

"Yeah..." She kept driving. "Right."

"Yeah...so it's either nerves or pregnancy, and I don't see how—augh!" Evelyn slammed on the brakes, and Margaret was kept held tightly in place by her seatbelt when it happened. When she slammed back into the car seat, holding the shoebox for dear life, she turned to the snow globe with a demanding tone, "Evelyn, what the heck..." But her confusion died down when she saw a teenager in front of their car, picking up his skateboard and holding up his hands in apology before running back onto the sidewalk.

Margaret sighed and relaxed a little. "Idiot..." She glanced back to Evelyn who looked a bit frazzled herself.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah…I'm fine..." She slowly got the car moving again, only to have to stop for another red light a moment later. She gulped and turned to the robin.

"You know, heh, now that I think about it, I should drop you back off at the school. I have some more errands I need to run, and I think those volunteers could use your help in organizing work loads..."

"Oh. Are you sure? It's not a problem for me to stay if..."

She saw how her eyes were glossed over, and she could tell she was forcing herself not to cry. Margaret backpedaled and nodded, turning away to look out her window. "But sure, that sounds fine." She leaned closer to the door as Evelyn rounded a corner back to the school. "I'll make sure they get everything squared away for 3 o'clock...no problem at all..."

* * *

><p>Is that even possible? Evelyn thought to herself a while later as she made her way up to her apartment. I'm probably just really late...yeah that's it. I'm just really late, sleep cycles affect periods right? Maybe sleep cycles are what's made me sick...Yeah...There's no way this is possible.<p>

But when she went through her door, her thoughts came to a halt when Ken approached her with a shoebox in hand, scaring her half to death the way he was just inside the doorway. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked, shutting the door behind her and stumbling away from him.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He looked enthusiastic about something, still wrapped up in the blanket, as he was when he woke up. "You got to come sit on the couch for a minute though, there's something I want to show you here."

"I don't have time, Ken, and neither do you." She quickly made her way to the bedroom, ignoring him trying to get her to come back.

"Please? It won't take long, I promise." But she had already shut the door.

Inside the room, Evelyn went to the closet and tossed the bag containing her performance dress onto the bed and flopped down on the mattress with her laptop she picked up from the floor. As Ken knocked on the door, she opened up the web browser and muttered to herself as she typed.

"Can...snow globes...and...gumball machines...conceive children?" She clicked enter.

"Ev?" Ken called.

"In a second," she yelled back, waiting for the page to load. "I'm trying on my dress." She focused on the search results, clicking the first link. "Hi my name is Lara..." she muttered. "I'm a snow globe...boyfriend's a gumball...can we have children..." She scrolled down. "Dear Lara, yes it is quite possible for snow globes and gumball machines to conceive...male gumball machine's fertile gumball enters female snow globe's opening behind knob..." she scrolled again, her heart racing. "Chances are 1 in every 10 sexual encounter...protection..." She scrolled down. "Census from the previous decade indicated over 3,000 snow globe and gumball machines hybrids living in the United States alone, each year growing…" she scrolled down. "While mostly uncommon, there are social groups and political groups dedicated to raising awareness of..."

"Ev?" Ken called again, turning the doorknob. Evelyn panicked and slammed the laptop shut, tossing it away on the bed as she picked up her dress bag and flew past him once he opened the door.

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

"Got to go, almost late. Get your clothes on, we need to go."

"I'm not going."

"What?" She turned to him on a dime. "What do you mean you're not going?"

"I've got a hangover, Ev. I'm in no condition to go out."

"Well I don't feel like a peach basket either, but I'm going, and I'm the one performing, so you should come and—"

"I said I'm not going."

"But...but..."

He heard the desperation in her voice and tried to console her. "It'll be okay, Ev. I'll record it here on T.V. so we can have a copy of it and everything."

Evelyn bit her bottom lip, her nerves causing her to get shaken up as she shook her head and took a deep breath, burying her face in her dress bag for a few moments. Ken waited until she calmed herself down, watching as she lifted her head and wiped away nonexistent tears. "No, no that's fine. If you don't feel like going, you don't have to."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, why would I be mad?" She turned to the door once again, but Ken spun her around, pushing the box to her chest.

"Listen..." he said calmly. "I spent all morning putting this together for you, and it would mean something to me if you'd take it."

She stared down at the box, the first thing she noticed being a plain white envelope on top, tied with a string.

"I want you to open it when you get there..." He rubbed a thumb on her cheek. "And read the letter in that envelope last…"

"What is it...?"

"You'll see...it's important you read it and think about me okay...?" He pulled her into a soft embrace. When she pushed away from him, she laid the bag down on the couch, setting the box and letter on top of it, and walked over to the open closet, pulling out a step stool. Ken followed, confused.

"What are you doing?"

"I have to go now," she said, now calmer herself, "but if you got something for me, then I got something for you too."

She reached back into the far corner of the closet and pulled out an old box with her name written on it. It was small in size, nothing too decorative or fancy, but it held something precious, and as she stepped down and returned to him at the couch, she embraced it as if it were her child.

"What's that?" Ken asked.

"Like I said, it's for you." She took a hesitant step closer. "It's really special to me, and I haven't shown you before so...so...So think of it as a wedding present."

He looked at the box he'd never seen before and held his hand out. She waited a moment before pushing it away from her body and into his palm. He grabbed it with both hands and set it in his lap.

"Kind of heavy for a small thing..." He went to pick at the packing tape but Evelyn stopped him.

"Don't open it yet."

"Why?"

"Because..." she backed off a bit, "you wanted me to open mine at the show, so it's only fair you open yours then too."

"Oh...okay..."

Evelyn grabbed up her things to leave and Ken set it aside to pull her into his lap. He gave her a tight hug with a kiss that she half-heartedly returned, and when she got back up to gather her things to go, Ken picked up the box again to examine.

"So, can I have a hint—?"

But Evelyn was already gone. He stared back to the bedroom, then down to the box and couldn't help but wonder: what the hell was that about?

Once Evelyn was outside, without the slightest trace of guilt or hesitation, she shoved the box Ken gave her into a fire pit of the few homeless people by her apartment, and watched as it burned away, the letter on top turning to ash before her eyes. She didn't care what he had to give her, and didn't care what he had to write to her. Not now.

Pulling her coat tighter around herself, she stepped into the convenience store on the corner received strange looks from the cashier before she drove away in Ken's car a moment later, a newly purchased pregnancy test sitting in a brown bag in the passenger seat while across town a gumball machine was preparing to leave as well. As she drove to the art building, Benson hummed a cheery tune to himself at his mirror, straightening his cuffs in preparation for the art show. When he felt ready, he grabbed his car keys and headed out the door, a positive attitude secure in his mentality and a loaded pistol secure in his jacket.

Everything was going to be just fine.


	28. Asleep in a Blizzard Part Two

_"Four...Five...Six..."_

_Evelyn's face hurt from smiling so wide at her own cunning trickery. While her Papa counted down at the base of the tree, she climbed higher and higher up the tall, leafy branches, wondering if it were possible to see their house from where they were a mile out by the wheat. But she had other things on her mind to focus on, like the current game of hide and seek. She was careful not to get her fishnet stockings caught on any wayward twigs, and she only stopped when she felt she was high enough to keep herself hidden from the man beneath her. She ducked low on the branch and suppressed another giggle as she listened for his voice._

_"Eight...Nine...Ten." Jerome Wimberley pushed away from where he counted and looked around the hillside. "Ready or not, here I come."_

_Evelyn waited and listened quietly to the leaves that crunched beneath her Papa's feet as he patrolled the area, humming to himself as the summer breeze wafted through. She tried hard to keep herself from giggling again, giving away her spot, but the thought of what his face looked like was too much for her to handle. She was sure he had a confused expression, and the idea just made her want to laugh._

_"Oh no," she heard him say. "Where'd my Little Evelyn go? I could've sworn she was just here. There's no way she could have made it back to the house in ten whole seconds."_

_Now she had to know what his face looked like._

_Putting one hand before the other, she got to her knees and crept along the branch to get a better look through the leaves. The branch she was on was one that extended farther than the others, and it made her snicker to think she could sit on the very edge in plain sight, but he still wouldn't see her. The farther she crawled, the more she heard him theorize to himself on her possible whereabouts, and she couldn't help but think, Silly Papa, just look up._

_When she made it to the edge and saw his head of dark gray and brown hair several yards beneath her, she didn't realize just how bad the branch was bending, Without almost any warning, she heard a snap, and she gasped out, losing her balance and falling over from her perch. She could remember the blazing sun in front of her as she fell back to the Earth. It was all she could concentrate on, the unknown of what would happen to her too unclear when she would eventually hit the bottom. But when she felt herself fall down into a set of strong, waiting arms, she clung to her Papa who tumbled back a few steps, making sure she was secure, and when the Earth went still, she felt she could open her eyes._

_"Evelyn, what did I say about being careful when you climbed up high like that?"_

_His near-calm tone expressed to her that he'd known she was there all along, and she felt a dent in her pride._

_"I'm sorry, Papa." She was still shaken up from the sensation of falling and her foolishness. "I didn't mean to..."_

_"It's okay, baby." He sat with her in the grass and examined a tear in her stocking. "But see here? You'll need a new pair."_

_Evelyn looked. "I'm sorry."_

_Her Papa hugged her tight and rubbed his cheek on her head. "Just be glad that's the only thing that got hurt." He kissed her. "You're growing up, kiddo, but you're still my Little Evelyn. You're not a big girl just yet, so be careful in those trees."_

_"I am a big girl," she argued._

_"Well as long as I'm here to catch you, you're always going to be my baby. You can be a big girl later. Deal?"_

_"Okay." She smiled up at his silhouetted face where his head blocked her sun._

Evelyn sat at her vanity, holding the pregnancy test in her hands. The instructions were simple enough. Urinate on the end, a plus or negative sign would show...The time to find out varied a bit depending on species, but it would be alright…right?

Her breathing echoed in her head, and she could hear the footsteps of people outside her dressing room. In a smooth motion, she pushed the test back into the brown bag and let her fingertips rake the table as she drew her arm back.

"I don't want to be a big girl..." she whispered.

* * *

><p>Two blows.<p>

A tap.

"Is this thing on?"

Another tap. An echo.

"Good," said the president of Quintel City Community College. He tapped the microphone again, the one set up on the stage inside the conference hall of the art building, receiving some hissing feedback, but at least the thing was working. He cleared his throat and spoke out to the attendees on the ground floor, some sitting at round tables throughout the room, others mingling either by the buffet tables or the bar. Benson in particular stood with Mordecai near the entrance archway, walking in just as he began his introduction.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen and welcome to our showcase, hosted of course by Q. Tri-C and premiering the style of mixed art and dance by our very own Evelyn Wimberley. In here you can relax with some mixed drinks and conversation and in about fifteen minutes you may head over to the performance area by the grand staircase where after Miss Wimberley's routine, we will come back in here for a short panel about the history of the institute and the programs we offer. So please, eat from our buffet line and have a glass of wine or two and please enjoy our hospitality."

Benson turned to Mordecai, his arm held protectively against the gun hidden in his inside pocket. "Do you see him?" he whispered.

"Ken?" Mordecai clarified. "No..."

"Good...I guess..." He walked over and took a seat by a table near the outer rim of the hall. "I'm still keeping my eye out just in case…"

Mordecai joined him as the guests hustled around him to get to the staircase. "Dude, just relax. If he were here, he wouldn't do anything—look at all these people. He'd never get away with it with this many witnesses. Everything's cool, and besides, the thing's going to start soon. Just calm down, and we can meet up with her when everything's over."

"No…" Benson reached for the saltshaker on the table and played with it in his hands. "I wish I could see her now...I'm worried about her."

"It's okay to be worried, but trust me, if you just—"

"Mordecai!"

The blue jay didn't even have time to look up before he saw Margaret join them at their table, now changed out of her pajamas and into much nicer clothing for the event—pastel blouse with black slacks and high heels. His heart melted.

"Margaret, hey." He held his arms open to embrace her as Benson looked up from his seat.

"I'm glad you guys could make it," she said into his shoulder. "Trust me when I say that it's going to be pretty cool what she's got in store."

"Have you seen her?" Benson asked, turning more toward them. "Is she alright?"

Margaret gazed down at the seated man. "She's a little nervous right now but just look at this turnout, huh? I wouldn't blame her."

He stood. "Let me see her. Please."

"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea right now." She broke the hug to speak with him directly. "She told me she doesn't want any visitors before the performance and—"

"Please, she can make an exception for me." He stepped closer.

"No, you can't. I'm just doing what she said, Benson, I'm sorry. It's best to leave her alone right now, she's a little...emotional..."

"Well I handled her when she was a lotta emotional, now let me see her!"

"Benson, keep your voice down," Mordecai said through gritted teeth, looking around at those whose attention they grabbed. "It's going to start soon and you can see her afterward like I said, okay?"

"But Mordecai—"

"It's for the best, Benson," Margaret said, rubbing her arm.

"And besides, do you want to put more pressure on her? You heard what Margaret said, she's nervous and emotional, just leave her alone until after it's over okay?"

Benson bit his lip and sighed to control his temper, too on edge to argue. "Fine." He swiped the pink flower from the table centerpiece and handed it to Margaret. "But in return I want you to give this to her, and tell her it's from someone special. You got that?"

"I can do that," the robin said, accepting it from him. "Just stay calm, everything's going to be okay." And she walked off to deliver the gift and message, waving to Mordecai as she left who returned her gesture.

"Do you need a cigarette or something, Benson?" he said, lowering his hand a moment later. "I can bum one for you if you need it."

"That's not necessary, I'll just take a trip to the bar." He stepped toward that direction as Mordecai stayed behind.

"Okay. Just don't waste yourself alright? It's her special day."

Benson raised his hand to acknowledge his advice, even though he was seriously debating about taking it or not.

* * *

><p>Evelyn finished tying the ribbon around her waist as she gingerly pulled it into a bow to complete her attire for her routine. She stared up at herself in the mirror and held her stomach, feeling ill now that she was in her full costume. She'd worn it before in fitting, but now that the day was here...it made her sick.<p>

There was a knock at the door that interrupted her thoughts as Margaret poked her head inside. "Hey, Ev...whoa, you look beautiful."

"I don't feel beautiful..." she remarked, not taking her eyes off her reflection. Margaret's smiled lowered as she made her way to her friend and helped smooth out any wrinkled in her sleeves.

"Evelyn. Just keep telling yourself it's only nerves, and they won't get to you. You'll be fine."

"I'll try."

"Here." Margaret passed over Benson's flower around her arm. "This is for you to have for luck. It's from a special someone."

Evelyn looked over and took the flower from her friend, liking how its pink color complimented the mint green and creams of her dress. "Thank you," she said, fashioning it on her chest. "It's really pretty."

"Just like you." She hugged her softly from behind. "You go on soon, so just take a few deep breaths, and I'll be right back to come get you, alright?"

"Alright."

Margaret hugged her tight one more time before leaving out the door. Evelyn looked back to her reflection, staring at the flower now bringing out the blush of her lips and cheeks. Only about ten more minutes now...She decided that it was now or never. Evelyn stepped back over to the vanity a moment later and picked up the pregnancy test from inside the bag, heading straight to the bathroom without hesitation and forgetting to lock the door behind her.

* * *

><p>"Hey there. What's your poison?" said the barkeep to Benson, not even waiting for the gumball machine to sit down before welcoming his patronage.<p>

"Gimme a gin and tonic, please," he said as the man placed a napkin before him on the counter. "I might ask for another soon, so don't go anywhere."

"Benson?"

As the bartender nodded and walked away to prepare his drink, Benson looked over to his side at the blonde gumball machine approaching him from the other side of the bar. She took a seat next to him, his eyes wide now in surprise as she set her martini glass down on a napkin. "I thought I recognized you."

"Veronica," he greeted, turning back fully to the counter. "Didn't think I'd see you here..."

"Same could be said for you." She watched as the bartender returned with Benson's drink, soon disappearing again to another patron. "How have you been?"

"I'd say a little better than you." He picked up his glass. "I heard about the divorce."

"Pff, who hasn't?" She took a drink.

"And I heard about the...mm..." he took his drink to stall conversation as she sighed and placed her glass down, holding her hands to the base.

"Again, who hasn't?"

"I'm sorry about your loss."

"Thank you, Benson. That's very sweet."

"Holding up?"

"Mmm...It's been hard..."

"I can imagine." He set his glass down with a thud. "How about the others? How are they doing?"

"What others?" her face fell in mild confusion.

"Your other kids..."

She furrowed her brow. "I only had one child, Benson..."

"Oh..." He looked down. "Sorry, I heard from somewhere you had two...my mistake."

"No, no, it's fine. Words travel like plastic bags as it were...No, no...one son. Just Niles...just...Niles..."

He glanced at her hands fidgeting at her drink and he felt his heart hurting for her. "...Are you doing alright, Vern? Really?"

"I've been...getting by..."

"Mmm...How does James feel about it?"

"He doesn't know yet..."

"How can he not know? It's his son."

She shrugged. "I haven't told him, and no one's heard from him while he's been away on business. You'd think he'd call when he found out but we've heard nothing..."

"Mmm...how're the umm," he looked down at the glass. "...AA meetings—?"

"Stopped going years ago."

"Evident."

She looked to him. "And you? How's Carol and Jon?"

"Dead."

"Oh...Sorry to hear that." She lifted the rim to her lip.

"It's fine. It's life."

"Right. Right...So then, what brings a...park manager like yourself to a fancy place like this?"

His spirits lifted a bit. "I know the dancer."

"Who? Evelyn Wimberley?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, me too. She's such a delightful girl."

"How do you know her?"

"She painted my portrait on a few occasions. I've had her over at the house for talk and drinks before, but it's hard to find time when she has work and classes."

"Yeah..."

"So, how do you know her? Did you need to get a second job at the roller rink to help support yourself?"

He tapped a finger on his glass. "No, I'm umm...seeing her."

She practically choked on the gulp she took. "Ah...Seeing her?"

"Yep." He took a swig, staring straight ahead.

"You're seeing her? Does that mean...you're sleeping with her?"

He smirked, looking away. "Y-yep."

It didn't take a half second for the bottom of her martini glass to hit the countertop. "Benson H. Price, are you out of your mind?"

"No, not the last time I checked." He turned her way. "Why?" As if he didn't already know.

"She's a child, that's why. I'd always hoped you would end up with someone, but silly me, I thought you'd be with someone closer to our age, not a baby."

"She's nineteen, Veronica, and unless the law changed in the last few minutes, that's not illegal."

"Try moral, Benny. You've got sixteen years on her."

"So what's your point?"

"Only that it's disgusting."

"What's disgusting it how you're acting."

"How I'm acting?"

"Yeah, and what do you care? You're not dating me anymore, and you're not dating her, so it's none of your business."

"I've treated that girl like a daughter when she was in my home I have you know."

He mumbled something into his glass before staring at her again. "Well if you ask me I'd think you were jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Because Evelyn and I love each other and the timing couldn't be perfect seeing as how you're getting a divorce and all."

She licked her lip. "Right, everything's about you, Benny. Well since everything's about you, I think the only reason you're seeing Miss Wimberley is to somehow validate yourself seeing as you have nothing else to show for yourself, and nothing more than that because you really just don't have anything else."

"Like what? Yachts and butlers and money? I'm not as shallow as you've turned out to be Veronica, so yeah, you just keep telling yourself that, hon. I'd say tell James, but oh, I forgot he can't stand the sight of you, much like almost everyone else you've ever been involved with."

"Seems to me that some people can't get over their immaturities..."

"You're right, so I'll get out of her company as soon as I can." He downed the last of his gin and slammed the glass on the table with his cash. Without another word, he stood up and walked away, leaving the other to lick her teeth and turn back to the counter, feeling more than just hurt in her pride.

* * *

><p>Ken stubbed out a cigarette on the ashtray of their apartment while he switched the TV on to the news coverage of Evelyn's performance. His head was pounding from the hangover, but it wasn't enough to match the pounding of his heart. The box Evelyn had left for him lay open on the coffee table, and he didn't know if his stomach could take looking inside it again...<p>

* * *

><p>In the bathroom of the dressing room in the back of the building, Evelyn noticed for the first time just how overbearing absolute silence could be. She could hear the ticking of a clock as she held the pregnancy test in hand, just waiting...waiting...<p>

She sighed and glanced to her left...to her right...at the ceiling...down again. It remained blank...waiting...waiting...

Unable to take the tension, she set the test on the counter and began to pace, holding her arms as she did so. What if this is real, she thought. I'll have to care for it if I'm pregnant. I'll never sleep anymore. If I have it I'll have to feed it, I'll have to cradle it. I'll have to bathe it. It'll always be crying Mommy, Mommy, Mommy...

Evelyn walked back over to the toilet and closed the lid to sit down, hunching over while holding herself for comfort.

I'll have to buy a bottle, her thoughts continued. I'll have to buy a pacifier. If it's a boy he'll need toys, and if it's a girl, she'll need some dolls. I'll have to play with it. I'll have to sing to it. It'll puke on me no matter what I do...I'll have to buy it some storybooks, a crib and a mobile...I'll have to rock it in a chair in the corner and lull it to sleep...I'll have to love it...

Evelyn pulled her knees up and hugged them tight, curling up into a ball and resting her forehead against her knees.

He'll want to love it, she figured. He said he regretted never having children. It's the least I could do for him. He'll want to feed it, Benson will. He'll want to rock it to sleep, to play with it by its crib, to clean it up when it gets too sick...He'll want it...He'll...

She felt her throat close up.

"I can't do this..." she whispered to herself. "I can't do this...If it's true, I can't; I just can't, and Ken..."

While she spoke, her fingertips began to idly claw at her stomach, her nails grating it as if wanting to break the skin and dig beneath it to find her answer. When she caught herself doing this, she looked down and gulped. "Hello?" she said, the desperation clear through her hoarse tone. "Is there someone in there?" She rubbed her palms back and forth along her stomach and curled in tighter, feeling the tears coming. "Please, please, tell me if you're in there..."

A sharp knock came at the door, and Evelyn's head shot up from where she perched on the toilet lid, proceeding then to hold her frail shoulders as a trail of mascara slid down her cheek.

"Who is it?"

"Evelyn? It's Margaret."

"Oh..." Evelyn looked back over at the bathroom counter and pulled the test back down to her lap. It was still blank, and now she found it was even harder to breathe than before.

"Evelyn, you're on in two minutes. You need to get out here now."

"One more minute..." she begged, trying to keep form sounding frantic, but by the twisting of the doorknob, she knew it was for lost. The test was shaking in her grip now, but the door was already creaking open. In the heat of the moment, she slammed it down into the trashcan and stood up as fast as she could, stepping forward and trying to show confidence, but in a way, she felt that was hopeless.

Margaret entered the bathroom and stared her down, trying to seem worried but concerned about the professors agitating her, wanting to know where the star was. "Evelyn, let's go, you look fine."

"I…I…" She'd never been so terrified. "Margaret..." Her voice was starting to crack.

The robin walked toward her friend and hugged her tight. "Shh, it's okay. You'll do fine, sweetie. I'm seen the way you dance—you'll do just fine."

There's safety in ignorance...Ken's voice sounded in her head.

"Evelyn?" Margaret asked.

"Yeah...yeah...I'll be fine...I'll be fine..."

"That a girl." She hugged her one more time before letting her go, nudging her toward the exit with a smile. "Now get out there and knock em dead."

Evelyn gulped and glanced down at the trashcan one more time before another nudge from Margaret pushed her to slowly drag her feet. When she was out of the bathroom, Margaret closed the door behind her, needing to use it herself. While Margaret glanced down into the trashcan, narrowing her gaze to a tiny plus sign of a pregnancy test, Evelyn shivered and felt her stomach grow ill as she continued on her march.

"You're okay, Evelyn…" she muttered to herself. "You're okay...It won't hurt...It'll be over soon, baby...over soon, baby..."

* * *

><p>Benson couldn't shake the ill feeling he had. Ken was nowhere in sight, and he should be glad for that, but there seemed to be a looming cloud over the whole affair that was starting to make him restless, and seeing Veronica again wasn't help for his nerves either. Everything was like a mild calm before the storm, which was ironic since the impending blizzard was slowly dying off in the north.<p>

But another storm was coming.

"You okay?" Mordecai asked, standing beside Benson in the crowd. He passed him a cup of wine, which Benson humbly refused.

"I just want this whole thing to end so I can take Evelyn home. I feel sick."

"What happened?"

"Remember Veronica, my ex-girlfriend?"

"Yeah."

"She was at the bar."

"Oh...ooh…you okay?"

"I just said I'm sick didn't I?" He sighed. "I just want to go home and talk about things with Evelyn. That's all I want to do right now is just talk and be with her...the sooner they start this thing the better..."

Mordecai nodded and rubbed his back, staring out over the crowd in the lobby. "Should begin soon. The president's coming now..."

Benson went from staring at the floor to attempting to stare out to the front. He could hear a microphone being tapped, but it was hard to see over the audience. As the president tested the microphone, he looked over to the blue jay with determination in his voice. "I'm going closer."

"Okay..." He watched his boss squirm his way through the crowd toward the staircase and took a sip of the wine, hearing his name spoken behind him.

"Mordecai." Margaret reached out and took his wing. He turned.

"There you are...what's wrong?" His face fell. "You look a little pale."

The robin held up what she found in the bathroom, and when she saw Mordecai's eyes widen, she quickly explained, "It's not mine. It's Evelyn's..."

"Oh." He sighed in relief before freezing up. "Wait. Evelyn's...?

Margaret nodded as the president's voice boomed throughout the lobby. Mordecai tried to call Benson back, but the speakers and cheers were too loud, and the gumball machine was lost amongst the people.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the president announced in the spotlight of the dome, "It is my great privilege to introduce this college's most outstanding student in the sophomore class, showcasing enough talent not only to surpass the upperclassmen for this prestigious honor, but to showcase the exact kind of excelling talent this institute provides for our students. Now, without any further adieu, it is my absolute pleasure to introduce to you Miss Evelyn Wimberley."

He led the audience in a round of applause as Evelyn took a deep breath behind the staircase and mustered up the widest smile she could force. She stepped out into the light and made her way up to the president standing before the covered canvas on his small platform. She nodded and thanked him, taking the microphone he handed her as he stepped down to join the rest of the crowd behind the chalk line.

"Hello," she said modestly into the microphone. "It's an honor to be here today to celebrate the first centennial of the school, and it's even more of an honor to get to perform for its founding."

Benson made it to the fifth row, stopping when he was able to get a good view of Evelyn through a gap in the rows before him. He felt his heart heat up a little inside; she looked beautiful in her dress...

"The title of my piece is called _Asleep in a Blizzard_," she went on. "And my theme will be the changing of seasons. I know that's been done to death in a lot of other shows but seasons, they mean a lot to me." She could feel herself about to cry, and the microphone amplified that. She did her best to blink it away and kept going. "You see, someone very close to me passed away seven years ago around Christmas, and now when I think of winter, I think of him, and how winter tends to kill what spring and summer tried so hard to keep alive." Murmurs were already going around in the audience, and she felt nervous. "Um, and all I'm asking is to keep an open mind and to enjoy what I have planned for you this afternoon. Thank you."

Another round of applause broke out as Evelyn passed the microphone to another art student there to assist her with her performance. It would be his job to pull back the cover when the music stopped, and when her fingers brushed against his as he took the mic, she couldn't help but pity him.

Benson watched along with the others as she made her way to the bottom of the staircase. The platform was removed, the canvas repositioned in the center of the spotlight where the dome shone light through the column of the spiral stairs. Evelyn took a deep breath and dipped the bottom of her shoes in a tin tray of mint green paint beside her. The crowed watched in silence. When her white shoes now dawned the paint she nodded to the boy assisting her and he turned on her stereo, letting a soft, romantic tune fill the air, a tango of sorts, of cellos and violins with a soft accordion accompaniment. Evelyn closed her eyes and swayed with the music, getting into her dancing spirit as she took the first step onto the staircase.

What unfolded next was something none of the attendees of her show had seen coming. In the paint trays carefully placed along the staircase, she would dip her specially made shoes into each color that she needed and while she danced, she would drag her feet along the paper lining each stair and landing, creating a beautiful work of art. Cameras had been set up upon her request around the banisters, and on a large screen on the far wall beyond the column audience members could see an aerial view of what she painted. Long swipes of the soles of her feet, coated in mint and dark greens, revealed plant life while the pinks and reds of her toes on her other foot created majestic petals. Her choreography was executed without a flaw as she gracefully danced her way up each step, painting flowers of every shape and color as she twirled along to the next landing.

Benson watched with the admiration of a lover and the warm support of a father, and never before had he felt more proud than he did now in his entire life.

Whispering onlookers watched as Evelyn continued up the staircase, changing from the painting of flowers to that of seashells and ocean waves as she went higher. Gasps of awe turned into a domino effect around the lobby as many gathered to witness this blend of art and dance as Evelyn climbed higher and higher to the next few landings, soon beginning to paint pumpkins and falling leaves, climbing higher and higher until the soles of her feet were brown with the dried paint of her previous works. As she approached the top of the staircase, now almost out of sight from those looking on from below, she used the now mixed brown paints of her past colors to swipe large, dead oaks upon the paper. The music began to crescendo as she reached the top, and when it peaked, those audiences members below placed their hands over their mouths as Evelyn reached the top, stepping up onto a gargoyle's head that stretched out over the column, and she posed on the tip of her toe as her other leg stretched as far back as it would go, her arms stretching back to follow suit.

The music went low as it began its fade to its end, and the audience silenced as well, tensions rising as they all looked up toward the snow globe practically hanging by a thread above the large drop. A single bead of sweat dripped down the side of her face as Evelyn softly panted, concentrating on her balance.

When the music ended, the volunteers hired to help her with her performance took their cue, and in a large flash of showmanship removed the cover from the canvas. Whispers of confusion soon followed when they all realized the canvas had been left untouched. Not a sketch. Not a drop of oil or paint had defaced it. It was as pure as freshly fallen snow. Eyes traced back up to Evelyn, the silence and whispers asking her what it meant to have her canvas so clean. Several of those around Benson whispered about the symbolism of winter—the still and quiet whiteness becoming a metaphor of death. But while they spoke and speculated of such things, Benson gripped the fabric of his jacket over his heart and stepped forward toward the center in hopes of getting a better look at Evelyn.

With a small sigh, Evelyn lowered down onto the gargoyle's head, planting both feet firmly upon it as she turned her back to the drop, facing the landing where she could walk back to safety across the gargoyle's back, never imagining her dance routine would end so quickly seeing as it'd been far off for months. She could feel the anticipation released below as people began to clap and talk amongst themselves at a job well done on the sophomore's part, but the show wasn't over yet. Not for her.

Evelyn didn't move as she stared at the wall, aware of the long drop just inches behind her, and soft tears filled her eyes as her memory flooded her mind.

_"Evelyn, what did I say about being careful when you climbed up high like that?"_

It would only be a simple step...

_"I'm sorry Papa."_

She'd planned and planned for this for months...

_"It's okay, baby."_

She'd go without regrets. She promised herself.

_"As long as I'm here to catch you, you're always going to be my baby."_

Below, Benson's eyes narrowed on Evelyn while those around him talked louder amongst themselves, unaware of what the gumball machine was seeing.

"She's not coming down..." he whispered, but his words fell on deaf ears.

From her perch, Evelyn took a long breath and placed her right foot behind her left, dragging on her action as slow as possible.

"Evelyn?" Benson pushed his way through the swarms of people to make it to the opening.

The snow globe closed her eyes, and in that moment she could feel the summer breeze wafting through the branches, and with a simple nudge of her foot, her balance was broken.

"Eve...?"

Her heart dropped to her stomach as that familiar sensation of falling froze over her whole body. She held her arms as she fell back through the column of the staircase toward the floor below, the canvas waiting in a sea of talking and laughing human beings. In her mind, she wasn't aiming for the canvas, or for the people, but for the open, waiting arms of beloved Papa...And she was sure he'd catch her. He'd protect her. She was his baby.

And Evelyn Wimberley didn't feel the pain at all.

She didn't feel it when she hit her target, when her glass shattered on the blank, white surface of the canvas. The liquid of her head that was wild in its newfound freedom, flooding over the edges onto the tile, seeping and spreading in all directions, as some of the momentum sent a wave of it to some of the people standing round. She didn't feel it when the shards of her glass rained down in hundreds, no, thousands of small, sharp bits and pieces, submerging in the liquid, cutting and scraping a few of those who stood too close. And she didn't feel it when her gingerbread house crumbled upon the impact, the debris from her peppermint roof, frosted windows, even the steadfast pine tree, now scattered amongst the makeshift snow now soaking into the canvas. A wave ran down the nerves of her arm, and her finger twitched three times before dying down and soon lay still forever. She didn't hear the screams, the shrieks, the cries of those attendees who surrounded her canvas, and above all else, she didn't hear the gumball machine, now sprayed with the glittering liquid once contained in her head, reaching out through the crowd for her, calling her name in desperation as the others tried to pull him back to let security flood the scene.

No. For Evelyn, it was as if she'd simply fallen asleep.


	29. Halo

"It's...always a joyous occasion to see such a nice group of young men and women gathered together like this, but it's hard to ignore the somber reason as to why we're all here today."

In the sixth row of the wake room of the funeral home, Benson stared at the pew in front of him, unable to grace the speaker with his full attention as his mind was too clouded with vague and muggy thoughts.

"In the days after the incident," the man continued, "I've heard a word spoken amongst my friends, colleagues, and even some news reporters, and it makes me stop and think to myself because I'm not sure any of them quite knows what that word means. They've called Evelyn Wimberley a coward for what she did. A coward. Can you believe that? Her death was ruled as suicide as proven by witnesses claiming she lost her balance on purpose, and we call her a coward for doing so. Please. If you look in the dictionary, the common definition of that word is a person who lacks courage or bravery when facing danger, pain, adversary, or extreme stress, so who are we call her a coward for what she did? Those who commit suicide do so because they feel they have nowhere else to go. Did any of us listen when she talked about her problems? Did any of us try to help her when she came to us, distraught? Were we there with her when she felt as if she had nowhere to go? Did we offer her shelter? Solace? Friendship? Love? How long had she felt this way? How long did she live day by day with herself, with these dark thoughts that clouded her mind? We'll never know, but sure, we want to know. We want to ask her what she felt, what was wrong, why she had the idea she had nowhere to turn, and why she was so afraid to face those challenges one day more. But that's what's sad isn't it? We had those chances to ask her for her thoughts, and we had those opportunities to take her in and help defeat the darkness that she felt, and she's the coward? Frankly, if you ask me, she was and is still one of the bravest souls I've ever met, especially one in this room today, even though it's only her physical body lying there in that coffin as her spirit has transcended into a place we can only imagine. We ask ourselves now after a loved one has died if there was more we could have done, if there was something special we could have said to help her change her mind, but we come to no conclusions do we? I ask myself now if there was more I could have done. I was her teacher, her mentor. I read her essays on trafficking of inanimates, and I read her poetry describing the vile acts done upon these young women at such a ripe, young age. But did I stop and ask her if this had been her past? No, I didn't. I spared her a letter grade and gave her the next assignment. I didn't spare her a dime for her thoughts, even though today I would spend more than that to know how she lived on a daily basis knowing what we wish we would know now. We are all afraid that we've missed a chance to speak with someone who's life was more busy and more woeful than our own, but we only come to these conclusions when it's too late and the blood is on all of our hands. We're scared to help those when we can, when we have the time and every chance in the world, but we're scared when they've died because of it, and we think we didn't help them enough when we had our chances. And yet she was the coward here? I don't know about the rest of you, but if I ever come across a friend, another professor, a reporter, or even a complete stranger who calls her as such, I won't hesitate to hit them as hard as I can for her. Maybe then I can find my own peace of mind and she can forgive me one day for not being there when she needed help. Maybe some of you can find your own peace of mind too in the days, weeks, months, maybe even years that follow. And then again, you might not. But whatever you do feel, I hope it's not anger toward her for what she has done. Feel anger in me. Feel anger in all of us who turned our backs on her, and learn from these mistakes. If there's anything to be learned here today, it's this..."

Benson closed his eyes and squeezed the stem of the lily grasped in his hand.

* * *

><p>The bench was cold where he sat alone that day, beneath a dead tree lined with ice and snow while a man read passages of scriptures to the gathered group of mourners several yards away. But they weren't really mourners. Not like him. They were mostly college students, classmates of Evelyn's who only came so they could say they knew someone who had died. It was a milestone they wanted to put under their belt as far as he was concerned, and the fake tears from her fake friends were pennies and dirt compared to the grievances he felt in his heart.<p>

Not even Ken had shown up. And for that, Benson felt a special tinge of hate.

The procession to the gravesite was insufferable with the people who did come, made worse by the fact Benson himself had volunteered to be a pallbearer, the least he could do for her now that she had died. But while he helped carry Evelyn's body to her final resting place, he was met with the gossip and chatter of those college students behind him, and it was enough to make him want to vomit. He didn't want this. He wanted silence to remember her, but they wouldn't allow it. It was hard to concentrate on his loved one when the whispers around him seemed to amplify on the march into the cemetery. He wanted to think about Evelyn, more importantly how her autopsy after the incident revealed her pregnancy. She was pregnant. Evelyn, his Evelyn, was pregnant. It pained him to think of her in the hours between him reading her to sleep that cold night and the hours leading up to her dance. He imagined her scared and alone with a baby asleep inside her, undoubtedly his he knew, when in his ear there came gossip, talk of how it wasn't an accident and how Evelyn committed suicide willingly, something she'd been planning on doing for years. They didn't call her a coward as the man had stated during the eulogy, but they did call her a freak, a psycho, and how it was always "the quiet ones" who "pulled things like this." Benson felt ill, too ill to stay for the actual burial, so after placing his lily beneath her framed portrait on the casket, he turned and walked away, feeling the need to be alone.

A soft breeze chilled his hands and face as he sat on the bench, freezing the dry spots on his cheeks where his tears had once trickled down. He stared at his feet on the ground, feeling the weight of guilt on his shoulders, and just as the sun was beginning to set, a hymn was being played at her site, something sweet just for her, and he held himself to listen in her honor. A single violin from a music student accompanied the hymn's soothing words, and Benson found himself looking down at his wrist when it played, his wound still bandaged up from when Evelyn bit him. As gently as the old gumball machine could muster with shaking fingers, he unraveled the cloth and let it drop to the ground, revealing the dull bite, now nothing more than a faint circle made of faded dotted marks. His eyes glanced down to a pen in his lapel he stole after signing her guestbook, and without giving it a second thought, he removed it along with the cap and traced a circle of ink around it to connect the marks, making it a complete circle, dark with its ink.

He wanted it to be her halo.

"Hey..."

Benson snapped the cap back on the pen and slipped it into his pocket before gazing up at the intruder impeding on his quiet time.

"Hi, Mordecai."

The blue jay saw what he'd done to his arm, but decided it was probably too private a task to ask what he'd done it for. Instead, he took a seat beside him on the bench, the snow melting beneath his warmth. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"Fine..."

He nodded and looked to the ground. "...What did you think of the eulogy?"

"It was okay…"

"...I still think it was an accident."

"No, it wasn't," Benson said as his chest began to hurt. "She always prided herself on her balance. She used to tell me that at our skating lessons..."

Mordecai stayed silent as they began to lower the casket into the ground.

"...She was pregnant, Mordecai," Benson said, his voice breaking, but no tears emerged despite that. "She was going to have a baby..."

"I heard..." he replied, not just from the news stations but from Margaret who found the positive pregnancy test in the bathroom of the art building. "It's bad..."

Benson gulped, trying to rid the frog in his throat. "It was mine, you know..."

"You don't know that."

"I do," his voice cracked. "She said I was the only one she'd slept with in a long time—it had to be..." He could feel tears trying to break through, but they refused to swell. "It's my fault she's dead. It is..."

"Shh...Don't say that." Mordecai rubbed his shoulder, soon standing up beside him as Benson pressed his cuffs to his eyes. "Do you need anything? I'll get you some tissues, okay? Just sit tight; I'll be right back."

Benson nodded as his friend's wing slid from his shoulder, and he doubled over once more as Mordecai walked back to the group of mourners now bunched in small groups as the funeral was coming to an end. He found Margaret close to the grave with Eileen and Rigby, right where he'd left them when he spotted Benson sitting alone. Rigby and Eileen were in a discussion of some sort when he walked up, and he nodded to Margaret when the robin noticed his return.

"How is he?" she asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Terrible. Do you have any extra tissues?"

"Yeah, they're in my car. Come on, I'll walk you over."

She took his wing in hers and the two made their way to a line of cars parked along the driveway. Others were leaving as well, so they slowed down a bit to let most of them pass.

"Hey Mordecai?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"There's something else in my car I want Benson to have. Do you think you can deliver it to him?"

"I can do that..." But his tone indicated he had his mind occupied by other thoughts.

"What's wrong? Did he say something to you?"

"Yeah," he was nudged by a teenage girl talking about dinner plans with someone on her cell phone, "he thinks it's his fault she's dead."

"Why?" She crossed her arms. "Evelyn was telling me the day of that things were going so well between them. They loved each other."

"I think he thinks she killed herself because of her pregnancy, but that can't be right...can it?"

Margaret squeezed herself. "Actually...it might..."

"What do you mean?" He looked to her.

"She...might've been scared of what might have happened to her if a certain someone found out about it..."

"Someone…someone like Ken?"

She nodded as they approached her car. "Evelyn came to me the day after they made plans to run away together..."

"I remember," he said. "What happened to her?"

"You can't tell Benson..."

"I won't..."

"Do you promise?"

He nodded.

And with a heavy sigh, Margaret told him everything.

* * *

><p>Mordecai had only been gone for a few seconds before someone else graced the gumball machine with her presence.<p>

"Hello, Benny," came a voice behind him.

He didn't even have to look up. "What do you want, Veronica?"

The woman stepped out from behind the tree and joined him by the bench. "...I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for your loss."

"I don't want your sympathy."

"But she'd want you have it. Miss Wimberley would."

"Don't talk about her. Please."

Veronica only stared at him, rolling her lips as she took another step closer, but stopped when she saw how he withdrew himself. She stood her ground, somewhat nervous as she reached into her coat sleeve for her handkerchief. Benson heard her rummaging and eyed her over.

"What are you doing?"

"Offering you something to wipe your eyes with." She extended her hand with the folded cloth in her grip. "Please take it."

Benson shook his head and stared back at the ground.

The woman's arm fell to her hip, thudding against her thigh as she stared at him with a tilted head. "I'm trying my best to help you, Benny. The least you could do is—"

"I don't need your help," he snapped. "You thought I used Evelyn to validate myself, and you're wrong—we loved each other." He glared at her. "I don't need sympathy from someone like you, so do us both a favor and leave."

She continued to stand there as the breeze brushed against the split ends of her hair. "Benson, I've been in your shoes before, I just want to help. When Niles died, I was so angry and felt so helpless, I—"

"Don't talk to me."

"But—"

"I said don't talk to me!"

She took a frightened step back, her heels sinking into the snow "...B-Benny, you're not being fair."

"Life isn't fair. Get used to it."

"Benson, please, I'm only trying to help."

Benson stood on her last word and approached her. "You want to help?" She nodded, taking another step back. "Then stop being around other people and leave the world alone. First it's your son, now it's Evelyn...why do you have to destroy everything you touch, huh—?"

In almost a second flat, Veronica's hand wound itself back and slapped the man straight across the cheek. Benson winced and lifted his palm to the burning sensation on his glass, not noticing the glossy tears now welling up the woman's eyes.

"How dare you?" she said, her own voice cracking. "I thought you were better than this, Benson...I could say anything to cut you down right now, but Evelyn meant more to me than I think you realize, so I'll bite my tongue for her, but as far as anyone else is concerned you can go to Hell!"

She pulled at the collar of her coat before stepping away toward her car, but not before spitting at the ground before she left. When she was almost out of his sight, Benson's knees buckled and he fell back onto the bench, continuing to hold the sting of his face. Despite the anger and sadness he felt, he mentally thanked the woman who'd done it to him. The pain finally allowed the tears to break from his eyes, and when Mordecai returned a moment later with the small packet of tissues, he took them with a small nodded and wiped the moisture from his eyes.

"Margaret also wanted you to have this," he said to him, placing a shoebox in his lap. When he asked what was inside, trying to put away everything that had just happened between him and Veronica, Mordecai flipped open the lid to reveal two of Evelyn's belongings the robin was able to salvage from the art building.

Inside the box was a large, pink beret wrapped inside a gray and white striped scarf.

When Benson returned home that night, it began a domino effect of the worst two weeks of his life. He stripped down out of his suit and made a pot of coffee in the kitchen, trying to ignore the spot on the counter where he sat with Evelyn only a couple days before. He brought out his box of keepsakes in his bedroom an hour later, removing and destroying Veronica's bracelet before tossing it in the trash. He flipped open the lid of the box containing Evelyn's things and brought out her beret, holding it flat in both hands to take in the sight of it. He gave it a small kiss before setting in the extra space of his treasure box, and he closed it once again to store away in his closet. That night before he went to bed, he went into the bathroom where he fished her peach-colored nighty from the hamper she left behind when she exited his life, and when he crawled beneath the covers that night, he hugged it close to his body, holding she would somehow form inside it once again. In the days that followed he wouldn't be caught in public without wearing her scarf, and that was only the tip of the iceberg. He'd wear it when he had to painfully drag himself out of bed for work, and on several occasions, he'd be caught slacking on the job, too depressed and downright ill-equipped to do his job. Skips had sent him home for mental health on those occasions, and whenever he returned back to his lowly apartment, he'd curl up with her nighty again, pulling the silk over his face to cry into the fabric, hoping to get out the pain and regret he felt. But dry heaving could only do so much, and as the days passed, he fell deeper and deeper into despair, unable to let out those dark and unknown feelings clouding his mind, and he had no idea what to do.

* * *

><p>It was useless fiddling with the car's heating system; the damn thing was just too broken beyond repair. Benson wasn't too concerned however. Despite the freezing temperatures, it would only be a short drive to where he was headed, and then he could return home once again. The long, striped scarf was wrapped comfortably around his neck as he drove on that afternoon, noticing the Christmas carolers walking along the streets, waving to those men dressed as Santa Claus ringing their bells at their charity buckets. Benson gave a small smile as he approached a red light, watching how one a young toddler stood on his tiptoes to slip a dollar into the donation slot. The Santa gave him a pat on the head, thanked him and his mother who supplied the bill, and by the time the light turned green, the carolers were on the move once again.<p>

The gravel mixed with mud and snow crunched underneath his tires as Benson pulled into the cemetery a few moments later. Snow had begun to fall, a precursor for the blizzard making its way to the city, but Benson figured he had enough time to visit before the weather became too dangerous. He parked the car a good ways into the eastern side of the graveyard, right beside the oak tree and stone bench where he'd sat during Evelyn's burial. When the engine cut to silence, Benson grabbed the paper bag in the passenger seat and left the vehicle soon after to begin his march over to Evelyn's gravesite. Upon his arrival, he noticed with a somber expression how the fresh flowers and carnations that were once there from her classmates and friends were gone now, leaving her headstone bare with only smudges of freshly fallen snow to decorate the once lavished plot. Half her name was covered in white, and it saddened him to think how quickly things could change in only two weeks time. But he'd take care of that. He'd take care of her.

Benson knelt before the headstone, setting the bag aside as he wiped away the snow with his glove, clearing off every inch of it until every number and letter was visible against the granite. He sat back once he finished and with a heavy heart read:

Evelyn E. Wimberley

July 1, 1992 – December 3, 2011

To our beloved Mother and Child

May you Rest in Peace for Love will Carry you Home

Benson wasn't sure who had that engraved on the stone, but he made a mental note to find out who it was and thank them personally.

"Hey, Evelyn," he said, placing the bag in front of him. "Sorry I haven't been around much. Christmas is coming up in a few days, so I thought I'd get you a little something to make up for it." It didn't take him long to search the bag for a small, green wreath tied with red and gold ribbons. A card was specially placed on the bottom with Evelyn's name in fine calligraphy, and Benson smiled as he placed it over the stone angel atop the headstone that had her hands pressed together in prayer above her name. "It looks beautiful," he said and sat back down on his bottom in the snow to dig in the bag for the rest of his goods. At the base of her headstone he set down a miniature vase of fabricated flowers with her named in calligraphy along the rim as well. When it was firmly placed in the ground, he pulled a storybook into his lap and opened up to a page near the front.

"I thought it'd be nice to come out to visit the both of you before the weather got too bad," he said after a moment. "I found this storybook on sale yesterday, and I wanted to read the baby some holiday stories since it's his first Christmas and all..." He flipped to the page he was looking for and settled in to read, the tail of the scarf idly blowing in the chilling breeze. "Let's see...Once upon a time, way up in the North Pole, there lived a tiny family of reindeer. There was a Mommy reindeer, a Daddy reindeer, and a very special baby reindeer named Rudolf. Rudolf was special because unlike all the other reindeer children of his village, Rudolf had a big, shiny red nose that glowed in the dark like a lantern. Because of his nose, a lot of the other reindeer thought he was strange, and when they got together to sing songs and play games, they'd—"

"Benson?"

The gumball machine stopped midsentence and turned to look up at the blue jay standing a few feet away, his wings tucked into the pockets of his coat for warmth. "Mordecai? What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I was walking back from the coffee shop and saw you drive in here. I came by to see how you were doing and I got to say I'm a little worried..."

"There's nothing wrong with a father reading his kid a story," he said as he turned to slouch over the book. "Now if you don't mind—"

"Benson, listen to me." He walked over to the kneeling man and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know you miss her, and I think it's good you're letting out your emotions this way, but the weather channel just issued all citizens to get indoors. The blizzard coming in has gotten stronger, and—"

"I won't be long, I promise."

"No, Benson, you need to leave now."

Benson's throat hurt where he felt it go dry. "But I haven't finished the story yet."

The break in his voice made Mordecai's heart grow weary with pity, and he couldn't help himself from kneeling down to his boss's level, embracing him in his wings in hopes of consoling him.

"It's not fair," Benson cried into his chest. "It's just not fair."

"I know...I know..."

"I didn't even get to say goodbye, Mordecai," he sobbed. "I never told her goodbye."

Mordecai swayed with him a bit, setting his cheek on the top of his head. "...You can tell her now, Benson."

"H-Huh?" He sniffed.

"You were talking to her just now weren't you? You can tell her now."

He shook his head, rubbing against his jacket. "I'm not ready, Mordecai. I can't; I just can't."

"Shh..." He held him tighter. "It's going to be okay...I'm sorry..."

"Why?" Benson cried. "Why did she do it?"

"Shh..."

"Did she really not want to be with me that much...?"

"Benson stop."

"Am I that bad, that horrible to be with—?"

"Benson," Mordecai pushed him away and gripped his shoulders. "You need to stop thinking that."

"But it's true," he wined, looking him in the eye. "She was going to have my baby and she killed herself because of it. She told me she never wanted children, that's why—"

"You don't understand," Mordecai argued. "It wasn't because of you—not matter how it looks right now."

"Then why?" he cried. "Why?"

Mordecai bit his lip and held him tight again. "I don't want to see you like this, Benson. It's not your fault...don't ever think that it was your fault."

"But it is my fault...all my fault..."

"Shh...it wasn't you, Benson..." He rubbed her back, the truth trying to break out of his beak. "...M-Margaret...she..."

He sniffed again. "Margaret?" He pushed away slightly. "It was Margaret who...?"

"No...no...Margaret...What I mean is, Margaret told me something at Evelyn's funeral that I...can't…"

The gumball machine wiped his tears with his sleeve and looked at him again. "What is it? What did she say?"

Another strong wind blew from the impeding storm as Mordecai held himself. "Evelyn...she wasn't afraid because of you and the baby. She was scared because of Ken..." Another strong gust howled throughout the cemetery.

"Of course she would be scared of him!" he shouted through the wind. "I found her chained to the water heater of their kitchen the night before she died!"

"No, there was more than that!" he shouted back. Benson stared on in disbelief.

"Wh-what?"

There was a lull in the storm, and Mordecai panted, chilled. "Ken...He did something else to Evelyn worse than that—"

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

"She told Margaret the day after it happened..."

"What happened? Mordecai? What did Ken do to her?"

"Well...He found out about you two the night you made plans to leave and..." The wind began to pick up again. "And according to what she told to Margaret he tied her to the bed and he—" The gust muted out what he had to say, but Benson was already shaking with pure hatred for a certain human.

The storybook fell into the snow as Benson stood up and left Mordecai alone at the grave. The blue jay could only watch as his boss ran back to his car, the man's furry only matched by the storm now fully upon Quintel City.


	30. Full Circle

For the first time in his life, Benson was proud of his bachelor habits; in this case, leaving his jacket in the backseat of his car after Evelyn's performance piece. As Benson sped through the snowy downtown area, his fingers gripped the steering wheel while the thought raced through his head that the gun was still inside the pocket. He only stopped once for a red light to retrieve it from the back. He wanted the gun in his hand; he wanted to hold it as he drove, getting the idea it might somehow make him get there quicker, and after he turned back from fishing it out of his coat, he sped right through the shimmering, pixilated light, horns blaring from all angles. It seemed the streets weren't as deserted for the storm as the weather reporters wanted, but Benson had other things on his mind than safety. He had somewhere to be and no one would get in his way.

Sure enough, by the time he arrived on Evelyn's street, the yellow Chevelle was parked in its usual spot on the curb right outside the apartment. Benson slammed on his brakes right behind it, noticing how a thick blanket of snow covered it completely, unlike the others cars on the street which were still somewhat clean. It hadn't been driven in days, maybe even a week at most, and he only hoped Ken was still inside somewhere and that he hadn't skipped town.

The winds were rough as Benson pulled his coat tighter around himself upon his exit from the vehicle, and he raced up the snow-covered steps to the door of the complex just as a woman was just on her way out. With a sweet smile and the potential for friendly small talk, she held the door open for him as he ran past her without so much as a gesture, and with a huff at his rude behavior, she pulled at her shawl and continued on.

Benson had his gun at the ready when he made it to the apartment, and without thinking, began banging the butt of it against the door as he shouted for Ken to open up inside. No answer came from within, and spitting to the side, he banged on it harder, shouting louder for the man to open it. When no answer came again, Benson braced himself and butted his shoulder against the door, not knowing if it would help, but he had to do something. And he'd seen enough crime dramas to know that the third hit usually worked. He didn't expect it, but on his third attempt it did in fact open, but not by his force. A lock tumbled inside the chamber, and the door was swung open, just as Benson went to slam against it, ultimately allowing him to stumble inside an overheated and quite disgusting unit. Dishes were piled high in every direction, trash was strewn about like flower petals in a garden, the coffee table was cluttered with liquor bottles and tobacco products, and playing on the TV was a recording of the news coverage of Evelyn's performance and her death. He had looked up just in time to see her small, pixilated body fall from the staircase when the screen paused on that shot.

"I've seen that over a hundred times now," said a voice behind him. Benson turned to see Ken toss the remote to the side and shut the door, his physical demeanor much more rugged than he recalled. His hair was in messy, greased tangles like a bird's nest, more so than usual even, and it looked like he'd worn the same stained and wrinkled tank top for the past several weeks. Bags drooped beneath his eyes, his lips looked pale and cracked, and he just looked downright slimy to the touch, again more so than usual.

"So you recorded it?" Benson said to him, almost forgetting the gun in his hand. Ken didn't seem to notice as he continued, "So you knew it would happen then, didn't you?"

"No..." In a disorderly fashion, Ken tipped back against the door with a hiccup, looking over his guest as if trying to recognize who he was despite knowing full well who stood before him. "I promised her I'd record it for a keepsake for when she got back, but..."

"And you're watching it?" He slipped the gun into his jacket when he saw he wasn't much of a threat. "You're drunk off your ass, living in your own filth, and you're watching it on repeat?"

"Makes the time go quicker..."

The human slipped off his spot at the door and made his way to the kitchen. "You want a shot of whiskey or anything? I'm running low on stock, so you better get some in while you can."

Benson picked the remote up off the floor and turned the TV off before following the human into the other room. Ken stood at a roach infested counter, trying to focus on pouring a dirty glass of whiskey, but he was so pathetic, the attempt almost looked pale in comparison.

"You're offering me a drink?" he asked.

"Yeah..." The brunette stepped back toward him. "Been in a rut if you haven't guessed, might as well..."

"Why are you doing this?"

He stopped in front of him, trying to remain balanced. "Because I lost my best friend, that's why." He held out the glass. "Least I could do."

Benson stared at him as he ended up shoving the glass of whiskey into his hand and took the bottle from himself into the other room. Without really thinking about it, he dropped it to the floor, letting it shatter on the tile as he followed him back into the living room. "You have a lot of nerve calling her that, you know," he said with a stern tone. "She's your best friend huh? Best friend? Tell me, do best friends just torture each other the way you treated her—is that a thing now that I'm not aware of?" Ken took a seat on the couch and mumbled a reply, but Benson hardly took a breath. "Well isn't that just the greatest fucking way to express how much you love someone. Goddamn it, even when you knew what she'd been through you still did that to her, and now look at what's happened."

"So, she told you her life story, huh? Figures..."

"Yeah, she did. Maybe because she thought it'd be nice to have someone in her life care for a change."

"Don't come in here and talk to me like that," he said, glaring at him. "I know why you're here—I saw the gun when you came in, and I know about your secret too, so don't play smart with me."

"Secret? What secret?"

"Mmm.." He put the bottle down from where he took a swig. "You're right, not a secret anymore since the autopsy, but I guess I was a little ahead of the game when I found this." He used his other hand to pull a laptop up from the floor and opened it up to an Internet page on the possibility of Snow Globe and Gumball Machine pregnancies. Benson took a few steps forward to read it as Ken continued, "This was the last thing she searched for before she left for that art show. She forgot to close it out."

"She knew…" Benson stepped back and held onto his chest. "So...she really did know…"

"Yeah...she did..." He shut the laptop and shoved beside him.

Benson looked at him. "What did you say to her?"

"I didn't say a damn thing—I didn't even know about it until she'd already...done it..."

He swallowed. "So why aren't you angry right now? Is it because you're drunk? That's never stopped you before. Why aren't you trying to kill me right now?"

"Because what's the point?" he replied, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "It doesn't matter now, does it?" He sighed, rubbing his face. "My only guess is she must have been scared about what I'd do if I found out, but I wouldn't have hurt her."

"Yeah like I or she would believe that."

"I wouldn't," he reiterated. "I did something a while ago to her I'm not proud of, and I told her after I'd done it, I'd be turning over a new leaf."

"I know what you did to her, and I think she had every right to be afraid of your reaction."

"You don't know anything—"

"I wasn't spewing random accusations earlier, Ken. I know you tied her to the bed and assaulted her by twisting her knob!"

He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away to the floor. "Should have known she'd say something...I told her I was going to change after that."

"Well what's the use now, Ken? She's dead now, you son of a bitch. She's dead, buried in the ground with my baby inside her, and it's all because of you!"

"You don't think I know that—?"

"Then why are you sitting there?" he screamed, hot tears in his eyes. "How can you fucking sit there and live with yourself, going on like none of this ever happened?"

"Because I've never lived with myself, that's why," he shouted back. "How could you live with yourself after doing the things I've done—the things I've done since I was a child. Now look where I am. Nothing I ever do is ever good enough or right for anyone; I wasn't right for my mother, my drunk ass father, no one but Evelyn, and in reality, not even her." He paused a moment. "But that can't be my fault—I was just a kid—it can't be my fault."

"You're disgusting," Benson spat. "It only makes sense that all you'd ever think about is yourself. I'll never understand what Evelyn saw in you."

"Her dad, that's who she saw in me," he said calmly, looking past him to the wall. He stared at nothing really, but a void as he tried to focus on anything but his own dizziness. "She loved me, she said, but she didn't really love me. And she didn't love you either. It was all a bunch of smothered and covered crap hiding the fact she was in love with her own goddamn father."

"You're lying!"

"Prove me wrong!" he shouted. "What words did she give you to make you think she was being honest with you?"

"That she loved me—that was all I needed!"

"How many times did she say that huh? How many times?"

"Just once; that's all it took—"

"Yeah, yeah, add a couple thousand to that and then you get how many times she's told that to me. She didn't mean it."

"That's not true."

"Face it, old man, she fed you with a spoon like you were a baby in a high chair."

"That's no—"

"And you fell for it."

Benson huffed and bit his lip, the anger causing his body to shake as the hot tears welled in his eyes he tried to keep down. "No...she wouldn't have come to me if she didn't mean it..."

"Did she go to you that night? The night she ran off?"

"I took her. I took her away from you, where you tied her to the water heater."

"Did she go willingly?"

"Of course she did! I had to lead her—she was disoriented..." He suddenly remembered the way she spat at his face and struggled against him…He lowered his gun. "She...she went willingly."

Ken shook his head. "Did you go to sleep with her too? Was she there when you woke up?"

"Yes...No...But that doesn't have anything to do with this."

"She did it to me all the time. You go to sleep with her, but in the morning? She's not there. She's like a cat—gone from home for a few days, then back again looking ten times worse than she did when she left."

"She left because she had an art..." it hurt him to say it.

"She came home that night to me, very early in the morning."

"No, she didn't."

"Then what do you call this?" He held up the red sweater she took from his apartment. "Does this look familiar? Didn't belong to her."

"...That's mine..."

He tossed it at his feet. "She took it off before crawling into bed with me, just before she told me she'd marry me."

"I know that's not true," he said looking from the sweater to him. "She hated you. She told me she didn't feel anything toward you anymore—that I would make her happy."

"Don't you get it?" he practically laughed. "No one makes Evelyn Wimberley happy! There was one man—one man—who could do that and he killed himself in prison—in vain might I add because I apparently couldn't make his Little Evelyn happy either!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about her Papa. Tell me she's told you about Papa." He suppressed a hiccup as he tried to regain himself. "I used to write to him back when I was in rehab. They wouldn't let Evelyn send him mail, but I could send it for her as long as they didn't find out. So I'd send her letters out, but I only heard back from the guy once. He told me he had no idea who I was but to take care of her because he made a mistake. He wanted me to protect and look out for her, and I don't know—that letter gave me the creeps—I never showed it to her up until now. I kept it and gave it to her before she died but..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "It's like she didn't care. It's like not even her Papa telling her I'd take care of her would convince her. She still killed herself."

"Because when have you ever taken care of her?"

"I practically raised her since she was ten; don't you dare tell me—"

"That's not the point! You never showed her any kind of love or compassion."

"Well damnit I tried!" He felt his headache mounting as he yelled at him. "I tried so many times. It was easier to do when she loved me, but one day she just stopped."

Benson took a step back when he heard the man's voice break in a whimper. "It's not fair," he continued. "I never did anything to be so hated when I was a kid. I was just born, and my father didn't want me and my mother had it in her head if she went to church and prayed me away, I'd just magically disappear out of their lives. And I didn't do anything. Evelyn was the first and only person who ever really loved me, and for once in my life I actually felt wanted." His voice broke again as he wiped his burning eyes. "And then she just stopped...Do you know how bad that hurts?" he asked him. "To have the one person who ever loved you just not love you anymore?"

"Yes…I do..." Benson replied. "But—but that doesn't mean you should force her to stay with you out of fear."

"Then what was I supposed to do?"

"Let her go and be happy."

He shook his head with a smirk and put his face in his hands again. "It's too complicated...I couldn't let her go."

"Why not?"

"Death..."

"Huh?"

"Death. He hasn't come for me yet though, but he will. He's waiting for something. Waiting for me to die like everyone else I guess."

"What are you talking about?"

"He wants to see me suffer, but I won't let that happen." He hiccupped, grabbing another bottle. "I'm going to drink is what I'm going to do. I'll keep drinking and drinking and drinking because you want to know something, old man? When I'm drunk everything is wonderful. Evelyn's still here, and she still loves me, and I'm numb to everything around me."

"You're insane."

"So what if I am..." He raised the bottle to his lip. "I can feel it...the weariness and the poison settling in...I figured I'm going out of the world the way I came in. Bothered, weary, and with a man at my side who'd rather see me die than live."

Benson scoffed, pulling the gun from his pocket. "Sounds like your father had the right idea." He aimed the gun at his head. "So I guess this shot's for him."

"What...?"

Benson put his finger on the trigger and took a breath. As much as he wanted to see the bullet go through his skull, as much as he wanted to see the man who hurt his loved one die, Benson shut his eyes from what he was about to do and pulled the trigger as tight as he could until he heard the bang.

His heart was in a vice grip when the sound went off as a series of shivers and adrenaline raced throughout his heated body. Should he open his eyes and see if he'd done it, he wondered. It'd be the only way to know...for sure anyway.

Benson swallowed the lump in his throat and dropped the gun to his feet, trying to find the will to open his eyes and witness what he'd done. He tried to calm himself down and get it over with when a sudden burning sensation came over his whole body. He smelled something rotten as a sliver of stench like sulfur or rotten eggs slithered into his nostril, and he heard something crackling far off like fire or cracking bones. And his feet that were once embedded on soft carpet began to vibrate and crumble down beneath him as something of an Earthquake began to take hold.

In a panic, Benson's eyes shot open, but Ken was far from his mind as the scenery around him had completely changed in less than a nanosecond. His vision was engulfed in red and orange, a crevice opening up from below his position that led into something out of Bosch painting. White and green spirits escaped from cracks and crannies like steam from the geysers as they appeared in the floor, and Benson held his jacket over his nose as he stumbled away from the opening. He didn't get far though as the floor crumbled beneath him and he was sent straight down toward a pit of fire below. He screamed and grabbed the edge of the cliff now formed by the erosion of the ground and held on for dear life as he felt some kind of invisible force try to drag him down like gravity times a hundred. He clawed at the remnants of the apartment floor as it dismantled and broke to pieces around him, trying his best to keep his head above the smoke, but it was hard to stay oriented when he had no idea what was happening. Somewhere far off he could hear the shrieks and screams of what sounded like people being whipped, clawed, or even drawn and quartered. Among them all was a man's scream close by, and he knew it to be Ken's. Benson coughed and tried to drag himself up, kicking along the walls of the drop off to help boost him over the side, but it was practically impossible. The weight dragging him down was too much.

"Help!" he shouted over the screaming of those in pain. "Someone, please help me!" He coughed over the smoke still rising from beneath him, and he cried out again, trying to crawl up and free himself from danger. He almost made progress when he felt something hook onto his scarf, causing him to gag on his own throat. He twisted his head too and fro until it unraveled from around his neck, and Benson turned to look over his shoulder to see it saunter down into the fire.

"No!" He cried. He struggled to hold a hand out in hopes of grabbing onto it, but Evelyn's scarf was engulfed by the fire, every thread burned to oblivion and devoured by the smoke in only a matter of seconds. He panted as he watched it burn, his tears evaporating the moment they slid across his cheeks, and he winced, grabbing onto the edge again. He grunted, reaching his hand up and out when his fingertips brushed across a leg, and he looked up through the smoke at a thin-framed figure before him.

"H-Help me!" he shouted. "P-Please help me!"

A bony hand reached down and plucked Benson from the pit, planting him on his weary feet on safer ground. The gumball machine panted, holding onto himself as he shivered from shock and tried to get a better look at who had saved him.

He could hardly believe his eyes.

"D-Death?"

"Careful where you're steppin' mate," he said down him as he put his scythe up across his back. "It's not pretty when I have to open the gates of Hell, and even worse when people who ain't supposed to burn fall anyway."

"Wh-wha...where...where's Ken?"

Death smirked. "Where do you think? Down there," he nodded to the crevice where Benson followed his gaze. Very faintly he could see a collection of spirits with razor sharp claws ripping and tearing and something that bled and shrieked before the think plumes of smoke shielded his vision. He gasped and backed away and Death scoffed again. "Went with a bit of a struggle, that one, but then again they all do."

Benson gulped, not wanting to look back as he held onto his jacket and focused on the reaper. "So I did it then...I killed him..."

"Yeah you did," he said irritated, "and I was hoping to make his pain last a lil' longer before he died, but that's the trouble with your mortal types. Always out for revenge without any consideration for other people." He placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled, just as his motorcycle appeared beside him. "But nothing I can do about it now. I'm just a delivery boy for the big man downstairs, so Ken's his problem now."

"Wait..." Benson stumbled over himself as he tried to approach the motorcycle. "Death, wait!"

The man revved the engine and put his feet up just as Benson made it to his side. "What do you want?"

"I have to know—"

"Don't worry, he'll be answering for what he's done the rest of his afterlife. Bit of a shame too; I kinda liked the bloke when he wasn't out makin' a total arse of himself. Really not that bad a guitarist—"

"That's not it," he called over the roaring engine. "It's about her."

"Her?"

"Yeah, Evelyn. Evelyn Wimberley," he said in a pleading tone. "The snow globe who several weeks ago—"

"Oh yeah…that one. Heh, gotta hand it to her, she put on quite a show, she did. Nice girl."

Benson's heart skipped a beat as he grabbed onto the bike. "Can you let me see her? Please? I need to see her."

"Sorry, mate, no can do," he said shoving him off. "I've got a full schedule, so if you don't mind—"

"Then please tell me where she is," he begged, grabbing hold again, "tell me she's alright."

"No can do, that information's classified. Now get out of the way." He held up a hand and used his power to levitate and slam Benson against the wall of the apartment a few feet away.

"Ah-P-please!" Benson shouted from his place on the floor. "Just tell me she's okay at least; tell me she's happy!"

"Sorry, mate," he shouted as the portal opened before him, "I'd love to chat but I'm late for dinner with my wife."

Benson was about to beg him further but the reaper was already on the move to the next realm, and the fire swirled around him in a cyclone of otherworldly power that left a devastation of wind in his wake. The gumball machine shouted in pain as the flames licked around his legs as they began getting sucked back down, the souls biting at his metal on their way back as well, not stopping until the portal closed and the crevice became whole; the shrieks of the underworld becoming an echo of the recent past. When it was all over, and the winds subsided around him, Benson felt himself drop down to the floor, his head thudding hard against the overturned lamp inside the apartment, a blurred image of things turning back to normal as he felt himself blacking out. He felt the pain race through his body, the heat that seared his muscles and danced along his exterior now slowly dying and turning cold. He panted hard and soon blacked out, the last thing he heard nothing more than a scream of a man lost beneath the surface.

* * *

><p>Benson shot his eyes open and gasped in a breath of cold air. The vast sea of fire and brimstone were gone, now replaced with the average, urban apartment he came to in the first place. But it was far from just average. The crevice that opened into the mouth of Hell was closed, but in its wake left shelves dismantled, pictures broken on the carpet, the TV broken on its side from where it fell from the stand, and in the center of the clutter on the couch was Ken. Dead. Left sitting up in the exact same position where he'd shot him. The dark red circle was clear on his forehead where Benson's bullet went through his brain, and thin and thick trails of blood seeped down from it, matching the splatters of black, purple and red that decorated the sofa and wall at the back of his head. The sheer smell of the carnage made Benson want to vomit, and the look of horror still on Ken's face was enough to send shivers down anyone's spine.<p>

"God...Oh God..."

Benson scrambled to his feet only to trip over a plant and fall once again to the floor. He winced where his body fell on his gun and he quickly pulled it out from beneath him, feeling the heat still rising from the barrel. It was nothing compared to the heat Ken felt now wherever he was in that place, and it frightened him to think he was almost dragged there as well. Slowly, in an attempt not to trip over anything else on his way out, Benson crawled on his hands and knees, backing away from the man's body toward the door of the apartment. Out. He had to get out. He just killed a man. Even though he deserved it for what he'd done, he still killed a man and had to leave. As he pulled himself to his feet and turned to make his getaway, that's when Benson noticed the small box that had fallen from the couch when the gates of the hell-mouth opened. In the open end of it he saw a curved glass orb, most of it hidden by the cardboard and a think piece of cloth cover it, but he saw enough to bring his thoughts back to Evelyn. He slipped his hands into the box and pulled out what was inside, the thing Evelyn had left him before she died. His heart felt like breaking in two when he saw it was a snow globe. It had the same gingerbread house, the same pine tree in the snow. Everything. The base even had the same decorative design, colored with silver, blue, and white. It was an Evelyn. A small, little Evelyn. His small, little Evelyn.

Panting hard now, not knowing if he should panic or try to be calm, Benson wrapped the snow globe in the thin cloth from the box and balancing it with his gun, he took one last look at Ken before back-stepping from the apartment and into the corridor. Immediately upon his exit he was met with the shrill cry of the elderly woman who lived across the hall. He turned in fear at the noise, and his eyes widened when he saw the woman run back into her home, her husband standing guard with a rifle raised at him.

"Police!" the woman cried from their apartment. "Get me the police! Hurry!"

"Hands up," the man spat, his finger twitching on the trigger. "Don't you make a fucking move."

A reflex caused Benson to drop the gun to his feet, taking a step back as he held the snow globe to his chest to protect it from harm. The man cocked the gun in the hopes of sending another twinge of fear throughout the machine, but just as he aimed again, the woman began to scream hysterically into the receiver about a murderer in their building.

Benson's heart began to race, tears welling in his eyes. "No...No, you don't understand—"

"I said don't move!" The man shot at Benson's foot he saw twitch, and on an impulse Benson turned and made a dash for the stairs. A storm of bullets shot into the walls around him as Benson fled, jumping several steps at a time, praying the thundering he heard was his own rapid footsteps and not those of the man trying to kill him. When he made the landing and made the dash down the hall toward the front door, it was already open where another resident of the building was coming in out of the cold. Benson tore past the woman who held onto her pregnant belly against the frame, shouting at the gumball machine who almost caused harm to her child.

He didn't know where he was running to. Already he heard sirens, coming in all directions on the way to the apartment complex, so to avoid being seen before he had the chance of freedom, Benson slipped into an alley and continued his run through the backstreets of Quintel City. He ran as far as his legs would carry him, taking small breaks to catch his breath against buildings and trashcans as he did so. Fear pulsed through him; he had to get somewhere he knew to be safe. His home would be out of the question—so would the park. The only logical idea was to get out—out anywhere—as long as it was out of the city. Panting hard, Benson ran to the edge of an outer street where he saw the beginnings of the forest beyond the last row of buildings and the highway. If he could reach the forest, he'd be safe.

More sirens echoed now, enough to alert him that the whole police force was on his trail. He picked up the pace and made a dash through his last alley, slipped underneath holes in wire fences and dashing across the highway separating him from the trees. He avoided car after car that swerved to miss him in the blizzard, and just before he made it into the opposite lanes, a K-9 unit slammed on their brakes in front of him, their headlights flooding him as he shielded his brow with his arm and continued on, afraid to stop. But when he jumped the fence and finally found himself among the dead branches of the frozen woods, he could hear the dogs barking, coming after him now while flashlights glared and orders were shouted. He only had to run faster, a little farther, he bargained with himself. Just a little more, and then it would all be over.


	31. Beautiful Dreamer

_A/N: Well, this is the end. If you've made it this far, thanks for sticking with it; I appreciate it immensely. Reviews and comments are encouraged, especially now since we're at the end, so for those of you readers who haven't said anything before, now would be the time. I'd love to know your thoughts on the story, so please, click the review button at the end of the chapter. Anything from simple sentences to longer reviews are all appreciated and loved. Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the final installment._

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><p>It was another one of those days. One of inhospitable cold and the Earth's unforgiving decline in temperature that stuck to the calendar's promise that winter was in full bloom and the snowstorm brewing up North had indeed arrived upon Quintel City. Benson's teeth chattered as he trudged farther into the woods where the trees became dense, now easier for him to hide from the howls and shouting orders from the dogs and their masters far behind him. The sun was setting now, the degree dropping in a rapid rate from when he first fled into the wilderness, and when Benson stopped to rest a moment by an old oak, he stared down at the footprints he'd left embedded in the snow, and felt his heart grow still.<p>

They'll find me faster like this, he thought. I'll have to use the trunks and roots...

With the wrapped snow globe balanced securely in one arm, Benson grabbed hold of the branches and carefully stepped up on the roots above ground to make it through the rest of the way. If his memory served him right, there was a town at the other end that connected to the interstate. If he could get there and find some kind of shelter, he could hitchhike somewhere away from the city, away from the state even, until he got his bearings. The last thing he needed now was to get caught because of his carelessness, and God knows he couldn't afford that. He didn't think he'd be able to survive in prison, the thoughts of his parents looking down on him with such distain that frightened him, and when the sun began to set and night consumed the twilight, he paused his expedition to take another rest.

"Shh...It's going to be okay, Evelyn..." he said, rocking the object in his arms. "Don't be scared. I'll get us out of this...don't worry..."

His reply was only silence save for the wind whistling and the creaking of the dead wood. He shivered and looked down at the thing in his arms, carefully pulling down a fold of the thin sheet to look at the house and tree inside the dome.

"Are you cold?" he asked, sniffling. "You told me you'd start wearing a jacket, didn't you? You need to remember these things, Evelyn...here..." he sat down on the tree, balancing the globe in his lap while he slipped off his blood stained coat and wrapped it protectively around his treasure. A harsh wind grazed his body, and he let out a searing breath, holding his bare arms for any kind of warmth, but determined not to take his jacket back from his beloved. The weather was excruciating on his body, true, but at least Evelyn was warm, and that's what mattered most. He held her bundled body in his arms and stood up to march ahead, continuing to cradle her to his chest as he braced himself against the strong headwinds.

"Don't you worry, Evelyn..." he whispered as he marched. "I'll take care of us. I promised I would, and I will. Do you remember? Heh..." He stopped to warm his hands with his breath before continuing on. "K-Ken won't hurt you anymore, Evelyn...I took care of him...No, no, don't be sad...Don't be sad...it's okay...It'll all be okay..."

It was almost pitch black by the time he came to a fork in his path and his vision was beginning to deteriorate. A gathering of knotted roots led down an area with less trees, but another way led down an area with more trees but less roots. He panted, looking from one to the other, trying to figure out which path to take, which one would save him from the police that were after him. He gulped and held the bundle up just under his chin.

"Which way do we go, Evelyn?" he said, his throat choking up. The tears he didn't know he cried were starting to freeze on his cheeks, and his lips were beginning to crack. He rubbed them together in hopes it would warm them, but it was no use. "C-Come on, Ev...it's cold...which way do you think is best?"

Only the howls in the distance answered him, and he shivered.

"Wh-Which way, Evelyn...?" he asked again, trying not to cry. "Left...or right...Hurry."

Still no answer emerged from the bundle in his arms, but he refused to give in so easily. Thinking he was too hard on her, he kissed the top of the dome and swayed with it. "It's alright, Ev...I'm not mad," he said, stepping into the snow. "I can sit here while you think about it...short rest...short...rest." His knees gave out just as landed and soon fell into a soft bed of snow. He coughed and ducked his head low as he curled up into the fetal position in the impression he made, the snow globe still held to his stomach. The wind whistled overhead as Benson curled in tighter.

"Why'd you do it, Ev...?" he whispered, his mind slipping in exhaustion. "I was there for you...You knew I was...Why didn't you tell me you wanted...to...t-to..."

_"Art show,"_ he heard her say.

He breathed out for warmth.

_"It's the first Saturday of the month, called Asleep in a Blizzard, and it'll be here."_

He curled tighter, his throat sore.

_"I like seasons and landscape pieces, so I'll be doing something to celebrate winter."_

"Celebrate..." The word was foreign to him as he breathed heavily, his bare toes beginning to freeze. "Eve...lyn..."

_"I don't really go out unless it's with Ken."_

_"He's just one of those jealous types, you know?"_

_"I actually think it's kind of cute that he doesn't want anybody taking me away from him. It's really sweet."_

_"He's gone for the next few weeks on a band tour, so I've got the place to myself until November."_

_"But it's okay. It won't matter for too much longer."_

Benson tried to focus on the white powder in front of his face. "Won't matter...?" he whispered as images of the film they saw together flashed through his memory.

_"It is pretty hard to follow, but it's still one of my favorite stories."_

_"The crook never gets his comeuppance, and everyone sings about how it's the end and everything is fine."_

_"I think it's beautiful how he doesn't die and everything's okay in the end. I don't know—I just really like that ending..."_

Benson stared ahead.

_"Take baby steps—remember what I taught you—the one, two, three, one, two, three._

_"I learned to skate just fine, and my head's not in a million pieces..."_

_"Yeah, yeah, fine, fine, it's just late..."_

His heart raced.

_"Run away together? You and me?"_

_"My performance piece..."_

_"I can miss it."_

He shut his eyes to hold back the tears.

_"I can miss it. If we leave together in two days, I'll miss it. For you."_

He gasped back his sobs, rubbing his head on his arms.

_"Please, Benson, I don't want to do it anymore. I want to go with you now. You make me happy, and you make me want to change and get better..." Her voice softened. "I want to miss the performance and get better. Please tell me we can do this, Benson._

_"Please?"_

"You did know," he cried, resting his tear stained eyes against the bundle. "God, Evelyn, you knew all along...Sh-Shh shh" He held it tight against him, his fingertips now pale and covered with frost. "It's okay...Y-You're okay now...I promised I won't let anyone hurt you anymore...that means not even yourself, Ev...not even yours...s…" He sniffed, trying to rub his tears on his arms. "It's going to be okay. You're safe with me. You're going to be okay..." He bit his bottom lip, trying not to cry. "Rem-member when I knew your music? Remember? I loved you, and I knew you, I did...Remember when I sang you to sleep and read to you..." He stroked his cheek on her dome, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating as the dog barks grew louder. "Shh..we have to be quiet now..." He curled in tighter. "It's okay...I'll sing to you, okay? Just go to sleep now..."

The dog barks came closer.

"Si-ilent night..." he sang softly to her. "Ho-oly night. All is calm. All is bright...Round yon vi-irgin, mother and ch-child...sleep...in..." he breathed out, feeling his body become numb and his eyes burn from the cold. "I...Mmm..."

The last thing he saw before he shut his eyes from the wind was a frosted spider web by the trunk, underscored by the howling coming ever closer.

Queen Mab.

The storybook.

Mom.

Mom...

Mom?

"Benson?" he could hear her saying. "Benson..."

"Momma..."

"It's bedtime, Benson..." She felt her warm hand stroke his face, erasing the frost that clung on his glass. "Do you want me to read you a story?"

Benson rolled over in his bed and stared up at his mother sitting beside his pillow with a book. He nodded and hugged his teddy bear closer to him while she opened the page and began to read of Queen Mab, his favorite. He dried his tears, and in an instant his thoughts swelled with the imagery of fairies and webs, dreamers and soldiers, and while usually such thoughts would guide him to sleep, he felt he was having trouble relaxing. He felt he was already asleep, but...

"Momma?" he asked.

"Yes, baby?"

"...Are you proud of me?"

Carol looked down at him from her book and gave him a concerned stroke across his forehead. He felt warmer as he sighed. "Oh baby, of course I'm proud of you."

He felt a groan form in his throat. "But I tried my best, Momma...I just wanted to be someone you and Dad would be proud of…like you...I just wanted to be a good person...I just wanted to be..."

"Shh...You're tired..."

He whimpered. "I just wanted to be good and do the right thing..."

"Oh sweetie." She set the book aside and hugged him to her. "Listen closely sweetheart...It doesn't matter what you've done. You have a good heart; you've always had a good heart."

"But I've done bad things..."

"Shh...Your father and I love you, and no matter what it is you've done, you're so loved, and we could never be more proud of who you are."

He swallowed his lump and held her back, shivering slightly. "Momma..."

"Shh..." She rubbed his back. "It's okay, baby. Everything's going to be alright…"

"It's cold, Momma…"

"Shh…I'm right here...everything's okay...I won't leave you..."

Benson nodded and held her back, rubbing his face in her warm chest before a sudden, radiating heat took over him, and he drifted off to sleep in his mother's arms.

* * *

><p>"Mom..." he mumbled in his sleep. "...Momma...Mo-...ah..." He curled tighter in the snow, feeling the cold chill whip against his body that only made him long for the warmth he felt in his sleep. His eyes shot open with the searing cold, only to be met with a navy blue darkness and the pale snow that covered his body in a thin layer. He jerked himself awake, brushing off the clumps of snow that piled on him, and he stared around the area wondering how long he'd been asleep. The snow globe was still sitting in his lap, bundled in his coat, but no matter how cold he was, he couldn't bring himself to remove it from her.<p>

He reached up and grabbed hold of the trunk, standing up on wobbling legs that felt like they had fallen asleep as well but hadn't quite woken up yet. Damn pins and needles, he thought. He took a few painful steps out, hoping to get the feeling back soon, when he stopped to listen for the dogs.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Maybe they've gone ahead and passed me, he thought. I was buried in the snow for a bit. It would make sense I guess...maybe they couldn't smell...

Benson huffed and took a few more steps out into the open when a strange, orange glow caught his attention from somewhere off in the distance. It was down a path. Not either one from the fork, but another, smaller one that led off to his right. He swallowed when he realized it had to be a fire. Someone was out here, and maybe that someone could help...

"S-Stay here, Evelyn," he said as he set the snow globe in a niche on the root. "You'll be safe. I'll be right back..."

Holding his arms across his chest, Benson marched forward in the dying blizzard and followed the warm glow coming from the trees. A good ways in, the light became brighter, and when he went even farther, it grew brighter still. It seemed too grand to be a campfire from this view, and when he made it a few more yards in, he found himself in a clearing, realizing what exactly cast off the illumination. It was a gingerbread house. Nestled comfortably in this small clearing was a modest, homey gingerbread house. A large pine tree stood proudly beside it that caught the amber glow coming from the windows, and the peppermints on top were frosted with snow, and the shudders and roof looked like they'd been iced where the blizzard left behind its sugar. Another chilling wind blew behind his back, and Benson shivered again, quickening his pace to the nearest window where he tried to look inside. But the ice was too thick to see in. Keeping one hand on the house, afraid if he'd let go it might disappear, he walked around to the other side where a red, mahogany door stood waiting for him, decorated with a charming Christmas wreath and a large brass handle. He held out his hand for the knob and was somewhat surprised to find it unlocked. He opened it cautiously and stepped inside, immediately overcome with warmth as the color came back to his face. He shut the door against the abrasive cold trying to follow him in, and locked it behind him for reasons he didn't know.

Inside it smelled like warm cinnamon, and the light that lured him here was coming from a fireplace at the far end of the house. A large chair blocked his view of the fire as he took in the rest of his surroundings of the one-room home. There was a small kitchenette where something was baking in the oven. There was a Christmas tree in the corner by a bookshelf and chairs, wreathed with garland and spotted with bulbs. A large bed was pushed against the wall beside it, scattered with blankets and pillows and looking very comforting coming form someone who'd just woken up from a nap in a patch of snow. Beside that was a crib while the rest of the home was filled with chests, toys, tables and a small alcove near the fireplace. It looked like an illustration from an old Christmas tale...

Benson walked further into the home when he realized there was singing. A soft lullaby was coming from the chair by the hearth. He walked closer, trying to keep quiet as he listened, wondering if whoever it was even knew he had come inside. It was a woman by the sound of her voice, singing _Beautiful Dreamer_ as the fire cracked away, and as he got closer, her voice became more familiar. So familiar, he didn't know if he could believe it. But when he approached, he placed a hand on the back and rounded it, almost falling to his knees right there when he saw who she was.

Evelyn was right there in front of his eyes, wearing what she did in his dream of a white down with red ribbons on her wrists, no hat to speak of, sitting right there on the cushion with her legs crossed and a bundle of blankets cradled in her arms, they themselves housing a tiny baby inside. Its eyes were closed in sleep as Evelyn rocked it, a snow globe Benson assumed by the look of him with a red present in his dome and a body much like his own.

"Evelyn?" he asked, interrupting her song.

Her head turned up at his voice, and she stared at him with her mouth slightly open, hesitating a moment before whispering "Hey..."

"Hi..." He sat in disbelief on the arm of the chair, looking down at the sleeping child in her arms with a lump forming in his throat. "I can't...Wh-who's that...?"

"I don't know," she replied, stroking its chin with her fingertip. "But I named him Preston."

"Preston..." he repeated. "Yeah...I like that..."

"I did to..."

He tried to curl his lip to form a smile, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wondered...

"Can I hold him?"

Without a word, she lifted him up and Benson took him from his mother, cradling him in his arms and holding him protectively as he continued to sleep peacefully, his mouth open with freckles reflecting on his cheeks. Just like Evelyn's.

"He's beautiful," he whispered. "What color are his eyes?"

"Yours...I think..."

"Mine…" He stroked a finger along his cheek. "He's perfect..."

"Mhm..." she smiled. "He loves the smell of cinnamon."

"Does he?"

"Yeah...I have buns baking in the kitchen...It helps him sleep this late..."

"I see..."

"...Here." She got up from the chair and took the child back into her arms before walking over to the crib where she set him gently inside and twisted his mobile of snowflakes and snowmen. _Beautiful Dreamer_ began to play as she returned to the fireplace and sat in front of it on the rug, patting her hand on the spot beside her for Benson to join. He did.

"I'm glad you found the place," she said when he sat down. "It's pretty far away from everything..." Benson was quiet, only staring at her, and she frowned, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Because I know I'm dreaming," he said sadly. "I fell asleep out in the woods with the dogs barking. I saw my Mom, and now I'm seeing you..."

"Does that make you sad?"

He nodded, hoping he wouldn't get too emotional. "I...I always dreamed about you in the days after it happened..." He pulled at loose threads in the rug. "But never like this..."

She nodded her understanding and softly rubbed his hand. "I'm glad you're here though."

"Evelyn...They're going to find me, and I'm scared." His voice was breaking. "I don't have a lot of time, and I...I need to know something."

"What is it?"

"Did...Did you know you were going to die? Even after we..."

She nodded slowly. "Yes."

He looked away, holding his chest. "But...I made you happy, didn't I? Wasn't it enough?"

"Yes, you did make me happy, Benson...but it's hard to focus on one ray of sunshine when it's still down pouring around the rest of you," she replied. "I told Ken the day I died that I would marry him so it would hurt him more when I went. But I never meant to hurt you the way I did to him."

"It hurt..."

"I know..."

"But why didn't you tell me you were planning it? I wanted to help you..."

"There was no helping me, Benson. I was in too deep to ever come back out, and you knew that."

"But I still wanted..." He couldn't even form the words now. "I...I didn't want this..."

"I know..." She squeezed his hand.

The fire cracked, and Benson turned to look back at her. "So...is this it? Is this where Death brought you?"

She nodded.

He stared around, holding himself with his other arm. "It's...not what I imagined."

"No, it's not. The wolves howl at my door at night, and it scares Preston. It frightens me too."

"This can't be Heaven."

"It is to me because I've made it that way. It's quiet, and I don't get many visitors...But it's everything I wanted."

"So you're not missing anything..."

"I'm missing you..."

Evelyn watched him intently as he gazed back into the flickering light, dying down now with the burning ash of the wood. "There's something on your mind," she said to him.

"Yeah, there is.."

"Tell me."

He took a moment. "Well...someone who was close to me told me that the only reason I loved you like I said I did was because I wanted to validate myself...to feel young again almost...like I wasn't doing well with my life so I tried to make it better somehow by being your...well, significant other when I didn't really mean it."

"Mm," she looked down at their hands. "Was that true?"

He hesitated a moment again before he softly answered, "Yes."

Evelyn's lip remained stiff, and she showed no other reaction to his response. When Benson tilted his head to see how she felt about his answer, his heart fell when he saw there no sadness in her eyes. "And what about you?" he asked. "Were you really in love with me, or were you wanting to be with me because I was a replacement for your dad? Your dad that you were in love with?"

She too hesitated before answering a quiet, "Yes."

Benson stared at the flames that licked in the hearth, slow minutes ticking by as the two sat there in silence just watching the fire burn.

"But if it means anything..." she said, turning to him, "I really did love you in the end..."

"You did? Why?"

She shrugged. "What you said. When you knew what my song was, and when you told me you'd always be there for me, even if I wouldn't love you back. I just liked what you said, and...I hadn't felt that safe in a long time."

"Oh..."

"Yeah..." She took her hand back to her lap and looked around to a basket of newspapers. "Those were delivered this morning..."

"You get the news here?"

"Only when it's important."

He watched her reach over to the old basket and toss one of the papers into the fire to keep it going. She watched it burn for a moment as Benson crawled over and rubbed her back.

"Evelyn...if it means the same to you, I might have started out that way, being only infatuated with you, but the longer it kept going, and the more I learned about you...I don't know, something clicked and I really loved you back too."

"Really?" She looked at him, the new fire now casting a glow off her dome.

"Yes..."

She smiled. "When did it click for you?"

"I think when I met you. I just didn't know it yet."

She sniffed, feeling a bit emotional herself. "Maybe it did for me too, and I didn't know it either."

He placed his hand on top of hers and leaned in to softly kiss her cheek, but she moved at the last moment to kiss his lips and wrap her arms around his chest to hold him. Without much thought, Benson slowly wrapped his arms around her as well, and pulled her into him where he wrapped his legs around her for extra protection. Having her there with him in their first, full embrace since her death, Benson couldn't help but cry and break away to whisper, "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," she replied, rocking with him.

"I don't want to leave this..."

"Then don't."

"I won't." He held her tighter. "I never will. I promised I'd be here for you, and I will…You'll always be my Little Evelyn...no matter what..."

"…Benson?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"..For a moment before I died...I imagined falling into my Papa's arms...And before I hit...I thought of you. I thought about everything about you, and I think in that moment Papa went away. You were the only one I felt, and...I think I died with you holding me..."

"Evelyn…"

"Yes?"

"Hold me when I die too..."

"I will..." She felt tears drip down her face as she tightened her hold on him. "I will..."

And Benson rocked with her the rest of the night, while his vision grew dark, while the sounds of the blizzard were rough against the house, while the peaceful sound of Preston's mobile was still tinkering away at the sleeping infant. In the center of the fire, still slowly burning before them in the creeping darkness was the newspaper; the headlines reading of a murder in an apartment complex, and the suspected felon, a gumball machine who fled the scene at gunpoint, was found huddled for warmth out in the woods, cradling a snow globe by a tree where the poor thing had frozen to death in the snow.


End file.
